Together On Mars: Always In Motion - EXTENDED PREVIEW
by StarlitxSky
Summary: The kids are all grown up and about ready to start families of their own, but that doesn't mean there aren't any surprises left for their parents - especially when it comes to a certain tan mouse and his snow-skinned mate. IMPORTANT NOTE: This story is currently unfinished so this is just a preview. The rest will be posted once it's complete. Preview chapters might be edited later.
1. Chapter 1

This story is dedicated to two very special people: MayaPatch, for all her wonderful artwork including the piece used for the cover, and Spades24, for inspiring me to write this in the first place. Thank you both from the bottom of my heart.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

"You're crazy."

"Nah, not crazy - quirky. And brilliant. It's genetic."

"You definitely inherited your dad's modesty."

"Brilliant, dashing, charming...and did I mention a babe-magnet?"

Huffing in irritation, Saber tossed down the comic book he'd been trying to read and sat up to glare at his best friend, who was currently lounging on his unmade bed with a bag of chips in his hand. "You're beyond crazy," Saber told him bluntly. "You're completely out of your mind if you think we can get away with stealing my dad's bike. If you got any nuttier, we could slice you into slivers and spread you on a cracker."

Vector merely cackled around a mouthful of chips before rolling onto his side, upsetting a pile of magazines with his bare foot as he propped his head on his palm and grinned meaningfully at him. "Not _me_," he corrected, "_you_. You get to steal the bike, and I get to do the rest."

"And the rest is...?"

"A birthday surprise, of course. Come on, bud, you're turning eighteen tomorrow; are you going to celebrate like a badass or a wuss?"

"I'd rather celebrate in one piece. If the bike doesn't kill us, the owner will when he finds out."

But once Vector had hatched one of his schemes, there was never any stopping him. He had been getting the two of them into trouble for as long as Saber could remember - because even though Vector was three years older than him, they had been a team since Saber was in diapers. And even though Vector got him into trouble all the time, he helped get him out of trouble almost as often, so it balanced out. Sort of.

Swiping his dad's monster of a bike was just one more in a long line of insane plots, and even if he'd wanted to, Saber doubted he could pull it off. But he knew if he didn't cave - like he always did - Vector would badger him until he was ready to strangle himself with his own tail, so he fell back against the mound of beanbags on the floor with a melodramatic sigh. "_Fine_, I'll try. But no promises."

"Good. When you've got it, meet me out by the dunes west of the ravine across from the north entrance."

"Whoa - you almost sounded like you knew what you were talking about for a second. Only there isn't any north entrance."

Grunting in annoyance, the white mouse sat up, noisily crushed his empty chip bag into a ball and pitched it into a corner. "Fine - from whatever direction the entrance you use when you show up from the north is. Like I'm supposed to know for sure."

The thought made Saber grin. A mouse that nutty finding out where any of the portals that led into his home city lie? Not in this lifetime.

With a lazy yawn, Saber stretched for a moment, reaching his arms back behind his head - and recoiled with a grimace as his fingers bumped a mound of dirty clothes, disturbing what smelled like ancient sweat and grime and a happily growing farm of bacteria. "_Ugh_, when was the last time you cleaned in here?"

"Since I moved in? Never. Being an independent adult rules."

Vector paused, his expression lighting up. He quickly crawled forward and flopped onto his belly, making his scruffy white forelock bounce as he peered over the edge of the bed at him. "You're an adult now - you could move in," he said excitedly.

Actually, Saber was starting to question his choice to sit on the floor, and he brushed off the seat of his pants as he stood, his eyes drifting over the discarded food containers and mud-caked boots. At least, he sure hoped that was mud.

"I think I'll wait until this place has been tested for hepatitis. Or trichinosis."

Vector snickered at him. "Trichinosis comes from pigs, bud."

Saber's gaze drifted back to the pile of fragrant laundry. "I'm sure there's one in here somewhere."

His best friend rolled his eyes dramatically. "Stop, you're starting to sound like my mom."

"Hey, your mom is an angel for putting up with what a slob you've become. My mom's been giving my room military-grade inspections since I was five."

"All the more reason to make your escape," Vector noted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and hopping to his feet in one fluid motion.

Saber had to admit, the thought of leaving home and rooming with his life-long buddy was appealing, but moving into an environment that was probably better handled with antiseptic gloves wouldn't be the only thing he'd have to adjust to.

He was still silently mulling it over when the front door suddenly buzzed, followed by a muffled pair of swishes as the door opened and closed again, signaling that someone had let themselves in without bothering to wait for permission first. Saber could easily guess who had just shown up, and he grabbed his boots from where he'd kicked them off earlier and started tugging them on. "I better go."

For a brief second Vector looked disappointed, but he was grinning again a moment later. "You need to rest up for tomorrow - and especially for tomorrow night," he said slyly.

"Do I get a hint at what this is about?"

"Nope."

Saber had figured as much. He gave his head a shake as he left the messy bedroom - and almost walked nose-first into Joy out in the hall. She stepped back out of the way so he could get by - stepped back normally. No hops of pretend surprise, no wide-eyed giggles and exclamations of things like 'fancy bumping into you here!'

As she moved to the side, folding her slender hands behind her back as she leaned against the wall, all she said was, "I didn't realize you were here until I saw your bike outside."

Once upon a time, this kind of remark would have had him rolling his eyes and saying 'suuuure you didn't,' but he was pretty sure she was telling the truth right now. These days, she didn't behave the way she used to, years ago. When they were kids, she had trailed after him like there was some kind of magic invisible thread tying them together; no matter where he went, she was almost always at his heels. When they got older she grew a little more subtle about following him around, but it still felt like every time he turned around she was hovering somewhere close by, like a second shadow.

That had changed once they both hit their teen years. Her interest in him suddenly seemed to wane and her focus shifted to other things, like hanging out with her friends and finishing her studies. Now, it appeared that the days of spunky little Joy chasing after him with daily threats that she was going to drag him to the altar were just a memory.

At nineteen, Joy was just as spunky as ever, but she wasn't so little anymore. With her bright green eyes, coppery hair, and slender yet toned figure, she had grown into a veritable mouse version of her mother. She worked as a full-time assistant at her parents' garage now, so these days she had put aside her childhood staple of lacy, frilly dresses and strappy sandals. Her favorite colors to wear were still pink and white, though; today she had on a short pink tank dress over a pair of snug white leggings. On her feet were a sensible pair of tan canvas slip-ons.

Her long hair was loose - cut in a style almost identical to her mother's - and she absently coiled a straight red-brown lock around her finger. She smiled softly. "In case I don't see you tomorrow, happy birthday in advance."

Saber smiled in return. "Thanks."

As he turned and headed out, he thought to himself that since her brother had come up with another one of his crazy stunts, there was a good chance he and Joy wouldn't see each other on his birthday. And if things went badly, he might not see her - or anyone else - for a few days after. Unless his parents decided that eighteen was the cutoff age for grounding him and just plain kicked him out of the house.

Out front, he found Joy's bike parked next to his own, a combination that was kind of funny to look at. Ever since she was fifteen, Joy had ridden around on a small custom dual-sport model she'd built with her mother. It was exactly the kind of bike you'd expect a girl like Joy to ride; pink with white streaks and glistening chrome, and naturally it was adorned with the Martian mouse insignia. Joy had lovingly named her Pink Zephyr.

All but exclusively riding on mouse-like motorcycles didn't used to be something rats typically did, but after the underdwellers first went underground, they had adopted such vehicles in order to swiftly and discreetly move around the surface when necessity sent them topside. Back then, they were all alike; streamlined racer-like designs colored a rusty brown that blended in with the terrain. The only real difference those bikes had come in was size, since larger riders - like his dad, for instance - needed a bigger ride.

Things had changed since then. Now that the rest of Mars knew about them and they came to the surface whenever they pleased, the styles, colors, and designs of underdweller bikes were now as varied as the mice's. They'd even developed their own rodent symbols, which Saber's own bike was adorned with beneath the handlebars. His black-and-silver ride was a modified racer model, designed with the same speed and maneuverability that underdweller rat vehicles were known for. It also came equipped with weapons in case of emergency - but there was one thing no rat bike possessed. And that was an AI.

Pink Zephyr had one - a nice polite one - and she rolled back a pace as Saber neared to give him room to turn around. That kind of behavior from what was ordinarily an inanimate object weirded out some of the older rats Saber knew, but since he had grown up around it, he barely noticed. He flicked a wave in the gaudy pink bike's direction before he fired his own vehicle to life, turned away from his best friend's door and started for home.

* * *

There were several benefits to having a pair of artificial eyes, and one of them was that they didn't age along with the rest of you. Which meant that when Throttle peered at himself in the bedroom mirror, his vision was as crystal-clear as ever. More than clear enough to see that the lines around his eyes were starting to grow so deep they were visible through his fur, and his jawline and muzzle didn't look as chiseled as they used to. With a long sigh, he reached up to run his fingers through his once thick, medium-tan forelock.

Not that his hair wasn't as thick as ever (thank goodness) but the color was another story.

Grimacing, he separated out a section in either hand and stretched them away from his head, releasing another sigh as he studied each lock's distinctly steel-gray color. "Okay, be brutally honest with me," he said.

With a quiet chuckle, his mate came over and rested her head on his shoulder, her abalone blue eyes bright as she studied his reflection with him. Thanks to those eternally rejuvenating cells of hers, she looked every bit as fresh-faced and youthful as she did the day they met. She literally looked like she hadn't aged a minute in all these years, because she literally hadn't. "I told you already," she said, smirking as she ran her long fingers up the back of his head and combed them into his hair, "I think it makes you look distinguished. And I still say it's more silver than gray."

Throttle wasn't sure if he'd call that an improvement, but his mate continued to smile as she ran her fingers through the hair in front. "It kind of glitters in the light, too," she noted, grinning. "Almost like a comet flew by and left stardust in your hair."

"Now you're just being a cheeseball," Throttle said wryly as he turned away from the mirror and put his hands on her waist. "And there are rules about being a cheeseball around a mouse."

"Oh?" Tamerin said lightly, as he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. "Am I about to be punished?"

Her mate merely grinned before cupping the back of her head and kissing her firmly. For the last decade or so they had been able to enjoy complete freedom with each other, and that meant they could go with any whim that took them, be it riding off someplace and not coming back again until days later, or chasing each other naked around the kitchen, or ripping each other's clothes off and making love on the living room rug, any time they wanted to.

There was no one around to interrupt them, because there was no one else home...or at least there wasn't supposed to be. Just as Throttle was about to casually pick his love up and dump her on the bed, his keen ears picked up the sound of footsteps out in the hall.

He broke away from Tamerin's warm lips with an unhappy groan. "He didn't even knock."

Through their bond, his mate didn't feel all that annoyed. "He used to live here," she noted mildly.

"Key words being 'used to.'"

Tamerin chuckled as she moved away from his arms. "I'll let you two work this out," she said, her amusement plain. "I need to use the facilities."

She playfully pecked his nose and scurried out of the bedroom. With a grumbling sigh, Throttle tracked the wandering footsteps out to the living room, where he found a tall, wiry figure with coarse off-white fur casually nosing through the books and other items kept on a shelf by the stereo. "Mom sure keeps this place clean," Michio noted, his tone as casual as his presence. "But then, she's always been super tidy."

Throttle chose to ignore this obvious dig that _he_ had nothing to do with keeping their home clean and instead gave his son an irritated look. "Ever hear of a doorbell?"

"Once or twice."

He faced his father with a grin loaded with mischief, which was one of the only things about the twenty-nine-year-old that hadn't changed over the years. He was so small when Throttle first adopted him he never expected the goat-like being to blossom until he nearly matched him in height - or exceeded it, if you counted the long, curved horns that grew from the top of his head. He'd developed strong hands and nimble fingers, the kind of hands that could manipulate virtually any kind of tool with ease.

Another thing that hadn't changed about him was his big black eyes, and right now they twinkled in a way that said he wasn't in the mood to be mature today. "But maybe next time I should announce myself first, in case I walk in on you two in the middle of being weird instead of just getting ready to be."

Throttle narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Were you spying on us?" he asked...because he was sure that there weren't any signs of their interrupted amorous activity either on or around him.

Michio snickered in response and slid his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Don't underestimate me, Pops, I'm a scientist."

"Uh-huh," Throttle said dryly, eyeing his son's long white coat. "When you were growing up, I never thought you'd end up wearing one of those someday."

But in hindsight, he probably should have. When his little boy didn't have his nose stuck in a book, he had forever been asking questions - endlessly wondering how things worked, why something was the way it was. Now, he was happily devoting his life to studying all the changes Mars had undergone over the last two decades or so, brought on by the increase of moisture all across the planet's surface, which had triggered changes in everything from the soil and foliage to insects and small animals - many of which had been categorized in recent years as having spawned new species. And Michio was one of the ones who collected samples from it all, which were then put through extensive testing in a giant, government-funded lab.

Tamerin had approved from the start because it reminded her of the work her father used to do.

"Hey, don't knock the brainiac look," Michio told him with a crooked grin. "The boys and I down in Research think it makes us look sorta boss."

As he spoke, he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on. Throttle looked at the familiar frames with a pert frown. "I've been wondering where those disappeared to."

Snickering again, Michio turned and headed for the front door. "I have to get to work. Tell Mom I said hi."

Throttle made sure to lock the door behind him - not that it would do much good if his son decided to come back, since one of his defining 'brainiac' skills was being able to hack into anything. Still, Throttle punched the code into the electronic keypad (just in case someone else stopped by unannounced) and then pondered whether he should go back to the bedroom and wait or pounce on Tam as she came out of the bathroom.

He never got to decide, because he was suddenly hit with a sensation like his stomach was dropping out. It was a sensation paired with a chilly kind of feeling that swept over him from head to toe, and when it passed he was left with a sense of stunned shock. He didn't have a clue where the feeling had come from - but he knew _who_ it had come from, and he ran across his home to the bathroom. His mate didn't rattle easily, let alone in the bathroom; something must have happened. Something that had taken her completely by surprise - and even scared her a little.

Strange images started jumping into his head - a sinkhole opening up in the floor, a small but vicious animal somehow sneaking in, building a nest under the sink and then popping out at her when she opened the cabinet - but when he burst through the unlocked door, all he found was his mate parked on the toilet. She was undressed from the waist down and had her elbows rested on her knees, and there was a folded square of toilet paper in her hands...and she was staring at it, expression deadpan.

Throttle did a quick scan of the room, but there wasn't a molecule out of place. Underneath her blank look, Tamerin was rattled to the core, and she continued to stare at what she was holding like she hadn't noticed him rush in. Nose wrinkled in puzzlement, Throttle folded his arms and cocked his head at her. "Do we need to switch to 3-ply?" he joked.

A second or two of awkward silence ticked by before his mate finally lifted her eyes and looked at him. She didn't say anything; just tilted her hands forward, displaying what she still had clutched in her fingers so he could see it. The white paper was stained with splotches of red.

It was a sight that made him feel funny inside - like he was intruding on one of those private, strictly female moments - and he probably would have left the bathroom in a hurry...if it wasn't for one simple fact. "You don't do that," he said, his puzzlement growing by the minute.

Tamerin shook her head, eyes distant. Her expression was dazed now, matching the way she felt inside, and her movements were almost mechanical as she stood up, discarded the stained paper and flushed the toilet. She started to reach past him to wash up at the sink; Throttle put his hands on her arms, stilling her. "Hey," he said softly, lifting her face until she met his eyes, "is everything okay, here?"

He couldn't imagine what could be wrong, or why she would suddenly start bleeding like this, so all he could do was wait while she took a slow, deep breath and pushed down the nervous tension that was rapidly building inside her. She still felt as dazed as ever, and her eyes darted away from his as she answered him in a small, quiet voice. A voice that didn't sound at all like the confident being he knew her to be. "There's only one reason why an Imeeran female suddenly bleeds between her legs."

Throttle lifted his eyebrows questioningly. "Which reason is that?"

Tamerin worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she answered. She only said one word...but sometimes, a single word was all it took to change your whole life completely.

"Conception."

Throttle experienced that feeling like his stomach was dropping out again, only this time the feeling was all his own. "But - that's impossible," he faltered. "I mean, I'm - for lack of a better term - fixed. And we haven't been together since last week."

His words seem to bring his mate back to herself, and she pulled away from his grasp and faced the sink with a scoff. "I think we both know just how little that matters," she muttered as she twisted the faucet on. "And I talked to Dee about your operation right after you got it so she could clarify a few things for me. According to her, even though she tweaked the procedure a bit, no method short of neutering you completely is one-hundred-percent effective."

Little Doctor Deichan had told him the same thing, back when he first went in for his vasectomy. She'd warned him that even though the procedure would prevent any sperm from leaving his body, it wouldn't stop his body from producing it. And she'd also warned him that, as slim as the chance was, it was possible for viable sperm to slip through once in a while, for various reasons.

Despite these warnings, Throttle had never worried, because she had also mentioned that the probability of that happening was some zero-zero-point-zero-zero-zero-something-percent chance...or something like that. Whatever the exact number was, it was so low the tiny doctor had all but dismissed it as being possible. Throttle had dismissed it entirely and let himself enjoy his mate freely for all these years.

But it was true what they said. When something happened to you, the numbers became meaningless. At least one viable sperm had sneaked into his semen. And one was all it took.

Still, his reeling mind tried to come up with an alternative reason for what he had just seen. "You know, things got pretty rough between us last time..."

Tamerin scoffed again and blotted her hands dry with a towel. "Not _that_ rough. You've never been rough enough to make me bleed, let alone at random almost a week later."

She briskly folded the towel and set it down, then turned to face him again. Her mood was more under control now: centered, calm. Accepting - or at least trying to be. "You can think up other possible reasons, or I can go to the hospital and get a blood test if you really want me to, but nothing is going to change what I already know for a fact. I'm pregnant."

Hearing that word spoken out loud made his stomach turn over - hers, too.

That was the last thing he felt before his mate's emotions suddenly pulled away from him. Like they were being sucked up by a vacuum, they drew from him and tucked away somewhere, secure and tight. Somewhere he couldn't feel them anymore.

Over the years their bond had deepened to a point where they didn't really need to talk to each other, if they didn't want to. It was possible for them to convey what was inside so clearly, words weren't necessary most of the time. Except, of course, when his mate hid what was inside her where he couldn't find it. It had taken him years of practice, but he had figured out how to blunt how much she felt from him - a lot like how you bottled up your feelings when you didn't want to let them out - but it was still a far cry from being able to cut off his emotions from her completely.

Not that either of them had much reason to hide what they were feeling from each other. They usually didn't bother unless they were trying to keep something a surprise...or if they were worried that what they were feeling would upset the other.

Throttle had learned during all the years he had spent mated to one that the dynamics of Imeeran relationships worked a little differently than they did for most. Arguments almost never escalated to angry words or shouting. Dark or negative feelings were never left alone or allowed to grow. When something happening between a couple threatened to break out in a fight, one or both would step back and not speak until they felt calm enough to approach the situation again.

Being able to feel everything you caused someone else to feel whether it was good or bad completely changed the way you handled being in a relationship. Hurting the one you loved was the same as hurting yourself. It had taken him a while to get used to it all, but now, knowing when to push and when it was time to pull back was second nature. And right now, he knew that walking away after his mate had cut herself off from him wasn't the thing to do.

Tamerin fixed her clothes and left the bathroom; Throttle followed at her heels as she breezed across their home and into the kitchen. As she started on lunch, her mental barriers stayed firmly in place and her focus firmly on what she was going, even as Throttle continued to hover behind her. Finally, he put his hands on her shoulders, bringing her movements to a halt.

"Come on," he said quietly, his voice gentle and coaxing, "don't go shutting me out. No matter what happens, we're in this together."

Breathing a quiet sigh, Tamerin started chopping hunks of fruit on the counter. "I'm fine," she said, her tone calm. "You're the one who's getting scared."

Surprised, Throttle opened his mouth to say that he wasn't scared...and closed it again as he realized, heart sinking, that she was right. It was so subtle he hadn't noticed until now, but a tiny knot of apprehension, unease, and worry was forming in the pit of his stomach. As soon as he became aware of it, it seemed to grow, to pull tighter.

It was only to be expected. However this played out, their lives had changed forever this afternoon. With a slow release of breath, he closed his eyes and let his head sink forward, until his forehead was resting against the back of her snowy head. "We're going to be parents," he mumbled.

"We're already parents," Tamerin responded, her tone dry. "We have been for twenty years. That's not what's bothering you."

No. That wasn't the issue at all. And like only she could, she had seen right through him and recognized what was going on in his mind even before he did.

It wasn't what was supposed to be going on in his mind at a time like this. Someone who had just found out he was going to be a father usually started wondering what their child was going to look like. Or if it would be a boy or a girl. Or which room they were going to turn into the new baby's room. Or what name they were going to pick out. All those normal, excited, happy questions.

Instead, all he was wondering was how much pain his mate was going to have to deal with before this was over. If she was going to have as rough of a time as her mother once did or if it would be even worse. And with the knot in his stomach tightening a little more, he couldn't help but wonder if his stubborn Martian body had just put his beloved Tam's life at risk.

Sensing his mounting distress, she quickly set down her chopping knife and turned around. Standing on tiptoe, she put her arms around his neck and held him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'll be fine," she murmured. "Even if the journey is rough, I'll make it through. And like you said; whatever happens, we're in this together. Okay?"

With a smile, Tamerin kissed his cheek, held him a moment longer, then went back to making lunch. As she did, she let her barriers slowly slip away, until his heart was filled with what was in hers. She was still getting over her shock, and trying to accept the inevitability of the situation. Finding out that something neither of them ever thought would happen had happened left her understandably floored. But she wasn't afraid.

Memories of when her mother was carrying Astrid were playing through both their minds, but even knowing that it could be just as bad for her, Tamerin wasn't afraid. She had gone through and seen too much during her long life, including a war that had lasted for thirty years. Even though she had once shuddered at the thought of risking the uncertainty of parenthood when mated with a non-Imeeran, now that she was faced with that very thing, she had already set those thoughts aside and was preparing herself for whatever lay ahead. She had lived through too much to get scared over a mere baby, and there was no sign of a knot of apprehension forming in her stomach.

Throttle tried to undo his, but with his head full of memories of Bevra's unpleasant pregnancy and the ongoing difficulties of little Astrid's life, paired with the possibility that their situation just might end up worse - far worse...he couldn't quite manage it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

After riding out of mouse territory, Saber spent some time weaving random patterns across the dusty terrain in the desert beyond. He rode circles around a small lake, dipped in and out of a deep, boulder-filled valley, then wasted a few minutes exploring the confusing pathways between a group of dunes. There was a good deal of plants, trees, and vegetation surrounding populated areas, but the further out into empty, unclaimed territory you went, the more barren things became.

Saber continued his weaving around as he headed into one of the most desolate places on the planet, where the ground was hard and infertile and signs of life were scarce. It was a habit drilled into underdwellers from childhood: you never followed a straight line no matter where you were heading. Erratic movements made it almost impossible for others to figure out where you had come from or where you were going. Even though their existence was well-known these days and they were on fairly good terms with mice, the fact that their underground city was kept a carefully guarded secret hadn't changed.

After jumping a ravine, Saber cut a few more random circles before hitting a button on the control panel set in his bike's dashboard. A light blinked as a signal was sent out, and a few short seconds later he got a response back on the control screen. A brief, casual message that read 'welcome back.'

Picking up speed a little, he steered into a narrow incline formed naturally in the rust-colored ground, heading downward for several feet until it stopped at a seemingly solid rock wall. Saber kept on going at the same pace, until his front wheel was about a foot from the rock. With little noise aside from a crackling sound, invisible seams inside the wall between the rocks and pebbles in the soil split apart swiftly, opening a space wide enough for him to pass easily through before the rock wall closed just as swiftly behind him. For an instant he was plunged in darkness, but the next instant the long, narrow passage he was in lit up brightly, illuminated by crystal-shaped motion-triggered lights imbedded in the walls.

At the end of the tunnel Saber paused outside the first inner door, a reinforced entrance sealed with multiple electronic locks that glowed white, bright enough to see by even when the motion sensors weren't triggered. He waited patiently while the bored-looking guard stationed today pressed a visor-shaped scanner over his eyes just long enough for it to register an affirmative _ping_. With a yawn, the guard punched in the elaborate key-code that unlocked the door before going back to the adult magazine he'd been reading. The young rat-cross waved cordially before revving the engine and speeding towards his home city of Neothera.

Over the last twenty years or so, only a tiny handful of non-rats had set foot down here, and those select few respected their need for secrecy and refused to utter a word about what they saw. Naturally, this led those who lived topside to spread wild rumors and ideas about exactly what the underdweller rat city was like. Some believed that the amount of resources they had and the overall scope of their city was deliberately exaggerated in order to scare off potential attackers. Others said they actually undersold what they had and that their city had to be a huge, self-contained world fully capable of sustaining itself. It was the latter story that was closer to the truth.

Back in the beginning, the resources they brought down from the surface with them wouldn't have been nearly enough for them to survive on for this long, so over the years scout teams had sneaked topside and salvaged supplies and technology - everything from broken parts abandoned by mice and sand raiders to machinery and equipment foolishly left unattended by Plutarkians.

It had taken a lot of time and a lot more effort, but now, there wasn't a thing they lacked. They had underground factories that supplied their small populace with everything from books to weapons, an extensive collection of greenhouses and gardens cultivated in soil enhanced with special minerals and loaded with plants nurtured with artificial sunlight, and of course there was the sprawling city itself. It was built inside massive caverns miles under the surface of Mars and connected by a winding series of cave-like corridors, the streets lit by lamps and fixtures on buildings, and like the outer corridors, there were light crystals set in the walls and ceiling, casting a warm glow that also radiated heat, simulating the look and feel of the sun.

Each section of Neothera housed factories, schools, businesses, and homes, all built from reinforced metal and alloy. They deliberately kept the population and facilities as even as possible in each section as well as kept a balance in weaknesses and strengths. As a result, in the unlikely event they were invaded by outsiders, there wasn't an area that offered a clearer or easier target over the others.

Intruders would find no such thing as an easy target down here. Everyone was armed and trained for combat, because right from the start there was fear that if those who could fight were seriously injured or killed, those who couldn't fight would be left helpless. The logical solution was to make sure everyone could fight, even if it was just a little. So even if they were physically weak, at the very least a rat knew how to aim and shoot.

Things had been peaceful on Mars for almost two decades now, but that didn't mean underdwellers had grown relaxed. They stayed aware - especially the older ones - that threats could arise without warning. And while they had stayed comfortably neutral and mouse territory remained at peace, there was still the occasional skirmish between certain factions of surface rats and sand raiders.

Even if that wasn't the case, Saber knew that everyone down here would keep living the same way they always had. Their secretive way of life was ingrained in them all.

After cruising down a long, twisting tunnel that inclined heavily before leveling out again, Saber paused to get scanned at the second door before emerging in the section of city he had lived in his whole life. Like all the other sections, it was housed in a hollowed out chamber in the ground, the rock walls and ceiling reinforced and lined with beams to keep it sturdy. The ground was kept even and smooth, paved in some areas and left as loose dirt in others. There were parks and other recreational areas, clusters of businesses and shops, the school he had only recently graduated from, and rows of homes. The buildings themselves were rather dull; all of them were either square or rectangle-shaped, and everything was colored in shades of brown, gray, and silver.

The city itself had little color aside from the gardens, but the inside of each building had as much variety as the ones who lived in them. Saber navigated through the paved streets before pulling up outside a small, square building colored a dull silver. There was nothing special about the place, nothing that made it stand out from the equally boring homes around it. Nothing that hinted that two badasses lived here.

After hitting a button on the dashboard that opened the adjoining garage, Saber parked his bike inside, closed the overhead door again, then swiped his personal key card through the reader by the front door and went inside. "I'm home," he called as he nudged off his boots and left them neatly on the nearby shoe rack.

No one answered, which didn't surprise him. Both of his parents were particularly active members of the community, so it was typical for them to disappear for hours or sometimes even days, taking weapons inventory, confirming that each of the tunnels leading into their city were secure, or dropping in on a few guards to make sure they were performing their duties properly. When he was younger and the two of them knew they would be busy for a while - or they just wanted some time alone together - they would either bring him to mouse territory or send for someone to come pick him up. As soon as he became old enough to mount his first bike, Saber started heading up there on his own.

He liked Neothera well enough, and he felt as comfortable underground as he did on the surface, but there was no denying that something about hanging around mice made him feel more at home than he did somewhere else. It wasn't because of how they treated him, which was about the same way he was treated down here. Everyone was aware that he was a halfbreed, but some would forget, or barely notice, while others were leery of him on account of old, painful memories. It wasn't really the locale, either. It was the ones who welcomed him every time he showed his face: Vector and Joy and their family, all their other friends. And especially the ones his parents used to leave him with all the time.

He couldn't really say he had friends or anyone he was all that close to down here aside from his parents. Which made the idea of moving to the surface and rooming with Vector all the more appealing.

Thinking about it made him remember his best friend's nutty request. After grabbing a drink from the kitchen, he went back out to the garage and leaned against a storage cabinet. Wherever his dad was, he had gone on foot, leaving his most prized possession behind. Saber absently sipped his drink as he gazed across the room at its monstrousness. This, he thought, was going to take some serious planning.

* * *

Hours after he and Tam went to bed that night, Throttle lay awake staring up at the shadow-bathed ceiling. Beside him, his mate slept curled up on her side, her head just close enough to his shoulder for her rhythmic breath to ruffle his fur. As she was getting ready for bed earlier, her mood had been subdued, with a tremor of excited nerves somewhere deep inside. She was feeling all those normal feelings, was asking herself all those normal questions someone who just found out they were going to be a parent asked. That tremor of excitement had faded once she fell asleep, and now all he could sense was a faint hint of calm. Of peace. Sometimes, he would sense spikes of fear or pain, and he would quickly nudge her awake, then hold her until she fell back to sleep. But tonight her dreams were sweet.

The tan mouse was pretty sure he and sleep weren't going to meet up before morning. He was too agitated, his mind too active - not to mention his hands. Try as he might to stop them, his hands kept wandering. Like they had a mind of their own, one or both would slip under the covers and press flat against his mate's belly. There was nothing to feel, of course, and he would pull away and mentally scold himself...only to do it again a few minutes later.

As he sighed inwardly, his left hand made the journey again, drifting beneath the sheets until it settled firmly against Tamerin's middle. Her skin felt warm underneath the thin fabric of the old band t-shirt she was wearing, the warmth being the only thing he could feel. His mind filled with images of what was out of his reach, what he couldn't yet see. Just beyond where his fingers rested, something was growing inside his mate - something the two of them made together.

Throttle tried to push his thoughts in a more positive direction, but that knot in his stomach wouldn't let him. Each time he tried to assure himself that the three of them would make it out okay in the end no matter how bad things got, his head would fill with stories he had heard over the last several years. Stories from Malteria about pregnancies gone wrong.

Imeerans didn't have complicated pregnancies or births when they mated with each other, but mating outside the species was starting to happen more frequently. No mixed couples had formed after he and Tam, her mother and Rimfire had gotten together - until the children adopted from Stardust House orphanage grew up and found Imeeran partners, that is. Both Tamerin and Ashlin had stayed in touch with each one of their former wards, so Throttle had gotten to know them over the years. As a result, he heard all about it when their attempts at starting a family went sour.

So far, the couples who had been having difficulties consisted of an Imeeran female and a non-Imeeran male, just like Bevra and Rimfire. Only unlike Bevra and Rimfire, no other pregnancies involving such a combination had been successfully carried to term. Most formed in the womb normally, but some of them ended up being ectopic pregnancies, like Astrid's had been. Either way, each of the devastated mothers had miscarried within the first six months.

Despite how painful the whole experience was, Imeeran females were by nature hardy - and stubborn. Some of them had already tried to become mothers again and again. Throttle couldn't help but worry about what would happen when a couple made up of an Imeeran male and a much less hardy non-Imeeran female attempted to conceive.

He worried about what was in his and Tamerin's future just as much. Recent history showed that the chances of them having a strong, healthy baby and a relatively painless pregnancy were all but nonexistent. But maybe, he suddenly thought, having Martian DNA in the mix helped, somehow. Bevra's pregnancy hadn't been fun, but she'd made it to the end, and while she wasn't strong, Astrid was nineteen years old now. She'd beaten the odds...but did that mean Martian mice and genetically engineered Imeerans were a good combo? Or was her survival a one-in-a-million fluke?

The thought of getting attached to his own unborn child only to have him or her taken away made Throttle's heart twist in his chest. He pressed his fingers harder against Tamerin's stomach, barely aware of what he was doing as he wished there was something he could do - wished he wasn't so helpless.

All of a sudden the quiet sense of calm he had been feeling this whole time drifted away like an ebbing tide. It was replaced by a sleepy mixture of emotions: mild irritation, a gentle regret, understanding. The tan mouse looked up sheepishly as his mate blinked drowsily at him. Her hand rested over his own, still pressed to her belly.

"You're scared again."

There was no point in denying it. Groggy as she was, Tamerin had already traced what he was feeling and figured out what had been on his mind while she slept. Sighing quietly, Throttle shifted closer and laid his head next to hers. "I can't help it," he murmured. "No matter how strong you are, I can't help but be afraid that you'll end up hurt from this. We both might."

He didn't need to elaborate. She knew that he wasn't talking about physical pain. In their darkened bedroom, one of the brightest spots was her face, her luminous blue eyes. As those eyes drifted over his face, he could see worry touch her features. Only she wasn't worried about herself. She was a woman facing the possibility of enduring a painful pregnancy for many months only to end up losing her child, and her biggest worry right now was alleviating her mate's fears.

"There probably isn't a whole lot we can learn this early," she said in a quiet voice, "but if you really want to, we can go to the hospital first thing in the morning."

Throttle knew that getting a prenatal checkup this soon was kind of ridiculous, considering that their baby had only been officially conceived less than twenty-four hours ago. But as soon as he pictured teleporting over to Malteria and having his mate looked over by her skillful best friend, something inside him started to relax.

Tamerin took that feeling as a yes, and she gave a quiet yawn as she scooted forward, slipping her arm over his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. As she closed her eyes, Throttle wiggled his arm under her and nudged her closer, settling his cheek against her hair as he closed his own eyes. He still had a mind full of uneasy questions, but he forced them aside for tonight. Something told him that he needed to get his rest while he still could.

* * *

When he went to bed that night, Saber had his eighteenth birthday all mapped out in his head. He was going to wake up at sunrise and ride straight over to Vector's. He wasn't going to fill him in on his plan, which he'd (hopefully) perfected while he threw dinner together for himself. He would spend the whole day gleefully withholding this plan from his best friend, since if Vector wasn't going to tell him just what the heck he wanted his dad's bike for, then why should he tell how he was going to steal it? And come sunset he would slip back home, discreetly (again, hopefully) nab the aforementioned vehicle and meet his buddy out in the agreed place.

In reality, the sable rat-cross ended up sleeping through his alarm and didn't wake up until almost noon. And he didn't wake up on his own; the feel of a gentle hand combing through the hair between his ears slowly, pleasantly drew him away from his dreams, until he was sleepily blinking his eyes open.

He was lying on his stomach, face smashed into the pillow in such a way he was practically smothering himself. His mother was sitting next to him, leaning over so her elbow rested next to his pillow, head propped on her palm as she smirked at him. "You planning on spending the whole day in bed?"

Saber let out a lengthy yawn, then tugged the blanket up to his nose. "It's my birthday. I can spend the whole day in bed if I really want to."

His mother's smirk grew. "Not in my house, you won't."

The sleepy rodent let out a groan and tried to burrow deeper, but his mother was already tugging the blanket off. Grabbing his shoulder, she pried him up from the mattress and into a sitting position. Saber playfully fought her the entire way, hanging as limply as he could and flopping backwards as she tried to keep him upright.

He ended up slumping against her side, head resting on her shoulder. Pretending like he was a lot smaller and lighter than he really was, the hybrid let his mother bear most of his weight as he snuggled closer to her contentedly. Sighing, his mother brushed a hand over his tangled hair. "Did you really just turn eighteen? Or are you still eight?"

Her son snickered. Sighing again, Mom shifted a little, putting an arm around his shoulders and hugging her to him like she did when he was small. With her free hand, she continued to pet his hair, running her fingers soothingly down the back of his head.

It wasn't long before Saber felt like he could drift right back to sleep again. But even as a veil of sleepiness draped over him, making him yawn, he could easily imagine what his best friend would do if he could see him right now. Give a dramatic roll of eyes his and demand that he grow up even more dramatically before fleeing from all this parent-child bonding.

Saber could only guess that the fact that he still enjoyed warm hugs from his mother was a rat thing. Either that or it was just his thing. The hyperactive white rodent, on the other hand, had given up on kisses and cuddles by the time he was ten. He was too busy tailing after his father, anxious to learn all about bikes and emulate the same kind of adventures and wild behavior the older mouse was legendary for. Vector learned all about mechanics from his mother, too, but there was no denying that the slightly smaller rodent had grown into a virtual carbon copy of his father in almost every way.

Saber had idolized his own father while growing up, too. The intimidating but fair rat had been infinitely patient when he was small, and most of what Saber knew today, he had learned from him. And the rest of what he knew he had learned from his mother.

Looking at her now, practically rocking him back to sleep like she was, you probably couldn't tell that she was far from one of those docile, stay-at-home kind of moms. If anything, she was even more of a fighter than his dad was. She was the one who showed him how to shoot and taught him hand-to-hand combat, instructed him on how to defend himself and others in sticky situations and how, if need be, to survive in the wilds.

Smiling suddenly, his mother pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "You know what you are?" she asked.

Of course he did. He could remember her telling him over and over when he was a kid. He feigned teenage indifference, but something inside him warmed pleasantly. "Your favorite surprise."

"That's right. Your father's, too."

She smiled a moment more, her dark eyes full of motherly love as she gazed at him, then kissed his forehead again before she shoved him off. "Now get up," she ordered. "I'm going to go warm your breakfast in the oven, so you'd better come eat it in time to call it lunch."

She swept out of his bedroom, and Saber hopped out of bed and shed his sleep clothes. Now that he was done having fun being lazy, he silently scolded himself for sleeping so late as he got dressed in a hurry. Vector couldn't come into their city and drag him out of bed, so he was probably riding around in the desert near one of the spots they usually met at, or pacing angrily at home as he wondered what the holdup was.

Saber knew his best friend was going to give him an earful when he finally showed up, but at the same time he couldn't help snickering as he pictured how crazy the wait must be making him. Much like his white-furred father, Vector wasn't known for his patience.

After tugging on his favorite pair of gray camo cargo pants and lacing up a well-worn pair of combat boots, the young rat-cross grabbed a male underdweller rat staple: a leather vest decorated with studs and a few zippers, and a few discreetly concealed pockets that were perfect for stashing small weapons and other essentials. There was plenty of room to cram stuff into the spacious pockets of his cargo pants, too.

As he was zipping the dark gray vest up, careful not to snag the fur on his chest, Saber surveyed himself in the mirror tacked to the wall next to his closet. He still looked a little sleepy, and his hair was a mess, so he quickly combed his fingers through it for a minute. While his fur was the same sable black as his dad's (though his wasn't as glossy) his hair had always been grayish, a little like the color of his mother's fur. When he hit his teens it lightened another shade or two, and then, unusually enough, it started showing traces of thin black streaks. Saber thought this unique feature was cool and had worn his hair in a shaggy, rock star-esque style ever since.

After shaking out the shoulder-length locks, he hurried out of his bedroom and to the kitchen. He was still a good ways from the open kitchen doorway when the smell of his breakfast-turned-lunch warming in the oven reached his sensitive nose. Roast fowl stuffed with vegetables? His favorite dinner for breakfast? As strict as she was sometimes, his mother sure knew how to spoil him.

Saber hurried over and gave her a playful bear-hug; chuckling, she ruffled the hair he'd just finished fixing. "Are you heading topside for the day?" she asked as her son smoothed his hair back in place.

The young rat-cross hastily faced the kitchen table and busied himself with filling a plate. "Uh huh," he said, as casually as he could.

"I don't suppose you'll be back tonight, then."

Saber gave a mute shrug. One thing he had learned during his eighteen years of living was that lying to his mother was impossible - and ill-advised. But over the years (thanks, in part, to coaching from Vector) he had learned how to be vague enough where she would make her own false assumptions. As he took a seat at the table, he sneaked a sidelong glance before focusing on his plate.

His mother had an absent look on her face as she started putting cookware aside to be washed. "Where's Dad?" asked Saber, before shoveling a mound of steaming vegetables into his mouth.

"Over in the eastern tunnel. One of the locks has been acting up lately and he's making sure a new one is installed properly."

That was his dad for you. Always on top of things and making sure everything stayed running smoothly. Saber sneaked another glance and could easily figure out what his mother was thinking. Already planning out a cozy evening alone with her husband while their adult son was out celebrating his eighteenth birthday with his friends. Whether they decided to go out together or stay in, it was highly unlikely either of them would notice that something was missing from the garage, at least until tomorrow. Saber hoped to have his dad's bike back by then...assuming Vector's plan allowed for it.

After finishing his hearty breakfast, he put his dishes away, kissed his mother goodbye, then grabbed his bike and took off for the surface. Predictably, after he entered mouse territory and rode up to the garage owned and run by Vector's mother, the half-mouse in question was lurking out front. He waited by the main door, back slumped against the wall and arms folded crankily while Saber parked his bike and got off. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Vector darted over and yanked him into a headlock.

"Where the heck have you been all day?" he demanded.

"Out whooping it up. Watch the hair, please."

Grumbling, Vector made sure to pop his helmet off and grind his knuckles into his skull before he was satisfied. Good thing he didn't mind the wind-swept look.

"You got everything worked out, right?" the hyper mouse asked suspiciously as Saber rubbed his now sore head.

"Of course. We'll have to wait until tonight, though."

Whether his parents were home or not, he wasn't going to risk attempting this in daylight. Not that the time of day ever affected how Neothera looked, since the artificial lights were always lit and the outer tunnels were kept dark when they were empty. But nightfall would lower the chance of someone spotting them once he had his dad's bike on the surface. Hopefully.

"No problem," said Vector, his mood lightening in a hurry. "We can keep busy till then. It'll just be you and me, though," he added, drooping despite having only just perked up. "Joy decided she and Astrid are having a girl's day out and took off this morning."

"She probably wanted to give us rowdy boys our space," Saber noted logically. "And how come you only say that poor kid's name right when she's not around?"

Ignoring his question, Vector moved behind him, grabbed his shoulders and started shoving him into the garage. "Come on," he ordered, "for taking so long to get here you have to help me scrub the grease stains off the floor. Mom's orders."

"I'm the birthday boy. Aren't I exempt from petty labor?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so."


	3. Chapter 3

**Important Note:** Due to my recovering from wrist surgery, I've decided to extend the preview a little more. I'm holding off on writing while I heal up, plus I kind of misplaced my inspiration for this piece, but I can handle a few edits here and there. So instead of keeping my dear readers in suspense I thought I'd edit and post the chapters I already finished, which hopefully will also spark a few ideas along the way.

Many thanks to everyone who voted in the poll; the name of choice for the minor bartender character is clear, and I also kind of adopted most of the remaining names for other minor characters that have popped up. Bet you I'll end up using them all before I'm done.

And now here's what is quite possibly the longest single chapter I've ever written. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

After a quiet breakfast, Throttle and Tamerin teleported straight over to Malteria together. They had already decided that they weren't going to mention what was going on to their friends or family just yet. Not until they were completely sure where things stood. When they reached the hospital they were greeted warmly by Deichan, who gave them both a sisterly hug before taking them to one of the outpatient exam rooms. "What can I do for you two today?"

As he took a look around at the basic equipment the small room contained, Throttle had to wonder if all the gear needed to find out what they wanted to know was in here already or if the Doc was going to have to bring in something a little more complex.

Tamerin gave him a side-long glance before casually taking a seat. Her mood had been even and calm so far today, but he suddenly sensed that she was going to try to ease the tension of the situation - and make him laugh if she could - with a little bluntness. "He got me pregnant. Can you figure out how that happened?"

Dee gave a start and stared at the two of them, her nacre eyes wide. "That shouldn't be possible."

"Well, he managed it. Give the boy a shiny gold star."

Shaking her head in bemusement, Deichan hurried over to the padded exam table. "Here, lay down. No, wait - you first," she amended, gesturing to Throttle. "I want to see what's happening with you."

"Probably something you never anticipated," noted Tamerin as her mate lay back on the exam table, resting his head on the pillow-like padding at the top. "Guy's got mutant healing powers."

Throttle's mouth twitched. "Martian," he corrected.

"Same difference."

From the back corner of the room, there suddenly came a muffled giggle. Surprised, Throttle turned his head and spied a diminutive figure he hadn't notice before, perched on a metal stool with her ankles crossed and a data pad in her hands. Smiling, young Chloe brushed a lock of her wavy white hair away from her face before smoothing the front of her nurse-in-training uniform. "Don't mind me," she said, in her girlish little voice. "I'm just here to observe."

Her mother was busy powering up the scanning laser situated next to the head of the table. After switching on the digital monitor, she pulled out the pen-like scanner and focused a narrow red beam on her prone patient, starting with his head. Throttle watched curiously as she widened the beam and did a sweep of his chest cavity. "That's not where the baby-maker is," he reminded her wryly.

Chloe muffled another giggle. Deichan's doctor-solemn expression didn't waver as she continued her scan. "It's routine to evaluate the overall health of each of my patients," she said simply. Her nacre eyes watched the monitor. "You're in terrific shape," she added.

"You mean for my age?" the firmly-entrenched-in-middle-age mouse sighed.

Tamerin snorted quietly. "What age?" Deichan asked seriously. "You're doing as well as ever. And it looks like having Imeeran blood in you is going to help keep you strong and healthy for the rest of your life."

Throttle considered this. "So, it'll keep me going longer?" he asked. "Maybe even stay younger longer?"

"It's possible."

Sighing again, the tan mouse displayed one of his graying locks of hair. "Tell that to this."

"Good luck reasoning with him," said Tamerin, her sigh matching his. "He's convinced that he's growing old. It's making him question his virility."

"That's hardly a matter that needs to be questioned when he just impregnated someone. And speaking of which..."

The room went quiet as the petite doctor focused the scanner on his lower region for several minutes. She studied the monitor as she worked, hitting keys and adjusting settings. Her forehead lined as she frowned. "Well. That's certainly unusual."

"Whaddya mean, 'unusual'?" Throttle wanted to know. Chloe edged forward on her stool, curiosity clearly piqued.

"Your vas deferens fused back together."

"See?" put in Tamerin. "Mutant healing powers."

"Or it could be your fault," Throttle countered. "Maybe having so much of you in me is making me heal faster and better than I normally would."

Dee was tapping her chin in thought. "I suppose that could be true," she mused.

Tamerin folded her arms and tossed her snowy hair, pretending to pout. "You're my best friend, so you're supposed to be on my side," she scolded. "Gals before sperm donors."

Throttle snickered. The little doctor flushed and hid her face behind her hand in embarrassment, while Chloe giggled some more and kicked her small feet. "You guys are so much fun. When I mate, I definitely want it to be with a mouse."

Dee shot her a look. "You're too young to be thinking about that."

"Am not," her daughter said sassily. "I'm almost thirteen. Daddy was twelve when he picked you."

Deichan opened her mouth to respond...then shut it again with a frown. "We'll discuss this later. No family spats in front of the patients."

Chloe stuck out her tongue and was quiet. After shaking her head, Dee set the scanner down and turned to Throttle. "It's hard to say exactly when this happened, but it looks like it was a while ago already. It's no surprise you ended up conceiving."

There was a quiet beeping as Chloe made some kind of notation on her data pad. Throttle sat up with a frown. "What the heck is a van def...whatever you just said."

"Vas deferens," Deichan repeated. "In simpler terms, they're the ducts that your sperm travels through."

"Oh."

"I can sever them again if you want," the gentle doctor said, "but I don't think I can guarantee that this won't happen again."

If that was the case, Throttle didn't see much point in getting another vasectomy. He would have to take a look at other methods. But there was time for that later; right now he wanted to know if Tam was okay. Only as he was about to vacate the exam table for her, Dee had him lay down again. "Before you run off, there's something else I need to do. Don't worry, it won't take long."

Throttle folded his hands on his chest and watched with a wary eye as the small doctor opened a drawer and rummaged inside it for a moment, making medical tools clink. "This doesn't have anything to do with my ducts, does it?"

The pink-skinned Imeeran smiled her most comforting smile. "Of course not. I'm just going to inject a few tiny probes. It's only a precaution."

Throttle blinked. "You're going to 'probe' me? Really, Doc, I think of you as my little sister."

Dee flushed a darker shade of pink for the second time this morning, while her petite daughter hid her snickers behind her data pad. Throttle glanced at her. "She knows none of this is supposed to leave this room, right?"

"Of course," said Chloe, turning serious. "I may be a nurse-in-training, but I know all about confidentiality."

"Just checking."

Her mother tapped her fingertips against the object she had taken from the drawer and waited until she had Throttle's full attention again. "As I said, you're in terrific shape, and assuming what claims you is old age, you're going to be around for a good long while yet. Which brings me to something that gives me cause for concern - something that didn't occur to me until now, since it isn't an issue for us."

Throttle wondered if this had anything to do with the scan she did when he first lay down. "What something is that?"

"Your artificial organs," she explained. "They aren't designed to last forever. They need to be replaced periodically, which is why I'm concerned."

The tan mouse grew sober, understanding what she was getting at now. Thanks to his brush with death years ago, several of his organs had been removed and replaced with artificial ones. The skilled medical team had been able to regrow some of them (though Throttle still wasn't clear on exactly how that process worked) but the ones that were completely destroyed had been substituted with a combination of electronic hardware and artificial tissue.

Each of his new organs were connected and fully functional before he woke up from his extensive surgery, so if no one had told him about them, he would have never known. He never felt any different from how he always did, making it easy to forget things like the fact that there was a replacement heart beating in his chest.

"For us it isn't a problem," Deichan went on, "because even if something vital suddenly stops working, our bodies will shut down in response. The organ can easily be repaired or replaced while we're asleep and then we'll wake up, just like we do after sustaining a severe injury. But in your case..."

"Having my heart or lungs stop would be fatal," Throttle finished. "I get it."

"You don't need to worry," the kindly doctor quickly assured him. "We came up with a system for those in your position a while ago, since even if it isn't fatal for us, most want to know when their organs are in danger of breaking down beforehand."

"Those probes you mentioned?"

"They're just teensy ones. Microscopic. I'm going to directly inject them into each of your artificial organs, and then they'll monitor the status of things. You have a data pad, don't you?"

Throttle shook his head. "When I want to use one, I just borrow Tam's."

Deichan looked at Chloe, who immediately hopped down from her stool and produced a new, unused data pad. "You should have your own, so you can keep it with you," the doctor said. "I'll install a program that the probes will send a signal to if anything ever goes wrong. You'll get a message saying you should come in to get checked out."

Sounded reasonable enough. At least, it did until Throttle realized that Dee was holding a syringe. Not that he was at all squeamish about needles. But the fact that the needle in question was as thin as a hair and about half the length of his forearm made him pause.

Dee noticed and smiled knowingly. "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing. And you can close your eyes if you want."

"I'm fine," Throttle mumbled, settling his head back down on the table again.

He tried to be discreet about keeping his eyes open without looking as the doctor went to work. But as promised, he didn't feel so much as a pinch, and it felt like only a matter of seconds before she stepped back and announced that she was done. With his new data pad tucked in his vest pocket, Throttle hopped down from the table and swapped positions with his mate, taking her seat while she made herself comfortable on the exam table. Grinning impishly, Chloe tiptoed over and passed him a lollipop.

"You were a very good patient," she cooed.

"Uh huh. Remember when I used to change your diaper?"

Snickering, the future nurse scurried back to her stool. Throttle stuck the lollipop in his mouth and discovered that it was root beer flavored. Pleased, he slurped noisily while his mate was scanned in the same way he just was. Smirking, Tamerin gave him a look that read 'and you're how old?' while the petite doctor closely watched the monitor. Her forehead was puckered in concentration.

"It's awfully early to do a scan like this," she noted, voice soft as she studied whatever was onscreen. "How long ago did conception take place?"

"Early yesterday afternoon," Tamerin told her distractedly. She had her head twisted so she could watch the screen as her flat abdomen was scanned. Her mood had shifted to one of quiet excitement loaded with flickers of other emotions, like curiosity and hope.

"I don't know what I can tell you at this stage," said Deichan. "We probably haven't even reached implantation yet."

She studied the monitor for a minute or so more, then lifted her lavender eyebrows in a look of surprise. "Never mind. It seems that the little one has proven me wrong."

A grin spread across Tamerin's face. She looked entranced by the monitor, her blue eyes almost shining. Inside, her excitement was mounting, along with something newly planted, something that wasn't there a moment ago. A tiny seed of affection, one that would undoubtedly grow day by day. At this point there was little more inside her than a microscopic cluster of cells, but in her eyes, she was seeing her baby for the first time.

Throttle couldn't sit still anymore. His immature treat forgotten, he got up and hurried to his mate's side. A knowing smile on her face, Deichan moved out of his way, giving him a clear view of the monitor. Onscreen was a lot of red. Red and a bit of pink, and some lines that might have been veins. It was a lot clearer than ultrasound pictures he had seen on Earth, but he still had no idea what he was looking at.

Not until Dee, still wearing her knowing smile, traced her finger around a tiny dark spot nearly hidden in all the red. "The little one's taken root right here," she explained.

The expectant father squinted. "Can you make it clearer?"

"I could," the small doctor said mildly. "I could give you a live feed of any internal cavity in your mate's body you want. But you probably wouldn't like it if I did."

"Which cavity am I looking at now?" Throttle wondered, as Tamerin reached over and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Her womb, of course."

He had hoped she would say that. With the knowledge those words brought, a strong flood of relief filled him, making him sag against the exam table. If implantation had taken place inside the womb like it was supposed to, then that meant Tam would be spared the pain her mother had dealt with. Whatever happened in the future, they could at least celebrate that much.

Throttle held his mate's hand tightly in his own as Dee continued the scan, feeling her bubbling excitement as the tiny doctor went on to say that for this stage of growth, everything looked normal. There was a clear note of skepticism in her voice, since at less than a day old there was very little to discover other than implantation taking place properly. It would be a while yet before they could learn something like gender, or if the fetus was growing healthy and normal.

But knowing that the pregnancy wasn't ectopic was a big load off his mind. Another load off his mind was the fact that Tam obviously wasn't going to be as stubborn about this as her mother had been. It was less than a day into her pregnancy and they were here at the hospital already, and he could tell by what she was feeling as she listened to her best friend that she was going to keep coming in for frequent checkups. If anything strange happened, he knew she'd teleport straight here.

They still had no idea what to expect, but if Tam had frequent exams, then they could at least stay on top of things in case something went wrong. Right now, Throttle knew that was the best he could hope for.

* * *

Keeping busy until nightfall wasn't hard when you had a best friend with a crazy imagination. After spending several hours cleaning up the inside of the garage, Saber and Vector ran out to the field out back. They would have finished up sooner, but while they were scrubbing the oil stains off the floor a certain white half-mouse got a little too enthusiastic as he air guitared along with the radio and ended up knocking over a toolbox. A very large toolbox. A toolbox that held every kind of tool imaginable in every possible size, meticulously organized by his mother. It took them longer to put everything back in order than cleaning the floor did.

When they were finally free, Vector immediately found a new activity guaranteed to have his mother breathing down their furry necks. With his father cheering them on, he grabbed one of the empty oil drums, piled small explosives under it, and proceeded to launch it into orbit. When it came crashing down a minute or so later in the front yard, breaking a set of sawhorses and an assortment of spare parts, the two younger Martians fled the scene and left the older one to fend for himself. The white mouse hollered 'wimps!' and 'traitors!' and a few other choice words at them, while his wife came and dragged him into the garage with a few choice words of her own.

After that, the two of them decided to at least try to stay out of trouble until nightfall and went to hang out at Slingshot's for the rest of the day. The popular bar and grill used to be known as Conrad's, but the aging mouse had passed the place on and retired years ago. It had been taken over by, of all things, an underdweller rat.

Having lived with them his whole life, Saber knew better than most that for all their secrecy, his fellow underdwellers were social creatures. They enjoyed the company of others and having a good time just as much as mice did. As a result, the once adult-oriented establishment had a much more family friendly vibe these days, with colorful decor and diner-style booths up front.

The bar itself was kept off to the right, complete with plenty of stools, a radio, and a large TV guaranteed to pick up signals from across the galaxy. The main part of the floor was covered in wooden tables and chairs, with a few more booths to the left. At the back were standard barroom games for the casual player, while for more serious gamers and younger patrons, there was an arcade in an adjoining room. The room next to it was reserved for private parties.

There sure wasn't anything private about their party that afternoon. The second he burst through the door, Vector announced loudly that the rodent of the hour had arrived (and for once he didn't mean himself) and then declared that the occasion demanded one of the most basic rituals of adulthood. Since eighteen was the legal drinking age for Martian mice, Slingshot humored them by giving them both a free round and let them have the run of the place for the day.

They spent most of their time in the arcade, competing at the various games and swapping playful barbs. A few mice Vector knew from back when he was in school passed through, along with plenty of regulars at the garage. When your mom owned and ran the most popular bike repair shop in town, you got to know the customers pretty well. Vector always greeted anyone he recognized in his usual outgoing, extroverted way. Saber had no idea how he kept track of them all and generally went quiet when he engaged a group of older, rowdy biker mice.

As the fun-filled day wore on, the young rat-cross couldn't help but feel like something was missing. This was the first birthday in his eighteen years of living that Vector's rambunctious little sister hadn't made at least a brief appearance for. But even though his ears pricked up from time to time, listening for the unmistakable sound of her small feet scurrying up, their day had a distinct lack of female presence.

Which was kind of odd, when Saber took the time to think about it. Vector repeatedly bragged that he had inherited his dad's knack for luring in the ladies, yet the young hybrid couldn't recall his best friend ever spending a significant amount of time with any one female. Or more than one female, for that matter. Although Vector occasionally dropped hints or showed signs that he had the same preference as his dad: exotic, otherworld females without fur or tails. Which would explain why he remained single despite flaunting his own magnetism, since females of that variety were scarce on Mars. And the ones that were around were either family or close to it.

It was a preference that Saber couldn't say he shared. Females like Vector's mom were pretty enough, but the fact that they only had hair on their heads and not a whole let else, well...it made them look kind of funny to him. Mars was mostly populated with rodents, and the only time rodents were hairless was when they were babies. So even if they had a figure that clearly belonged to a mature adult, the sight of a hairless female always gave him the vague feeling that they weren't fully developed yet.

There weren't many female mice in Slingshot's that day beyond the occasional young mother and her brood of kids coming in for lunch. Things always got rowdier after dark, since that was when the place closed to minors and adults came out to play, but as soon as the sun had set Vector grabbed Saber's shoulder and tugged him outside. It would be hours before the sun's persistent afterglow faded, but the white half-mouse didn't want to wait anymore. Saber kind of didn't want to either; he had warning bells going off that told him this little plan wasn't going to end well and just wanted to get it over with.

Still, he did like he always did as he started riding in the direction of home and took unnecessary twists and turns that he knew would throw off Vector's sense of direction. He took him as far as the jump over the ravine before leading him in the wrong direction for a while, since that jump wasn't one he felt comfortable making on his dad's bike. He didn't feel comfortable getting on his dad's bike, period.

After leaving his best friend at a random spot in the sand, partly obscured by rocky outcroppings, Saber continued on alone. He acted as casual as he could as he rode through an outer tunnel and paused for the usual scans. Like he had come back early from partying, or was only stopping in for a few minutes. He kept up a moderate speed as he entered the city, riding past brightly lit homes and businesses that stayed open late.

He slowed to a stop and quietly parked his bike a short distance from his own home. He wasn't sure if his parents had gone out or were staying in tonight and didn't want the noise to tip them off. With that in mind, he decided to sneak in the front door and get into the garage through the door in the utility room, since they would definitely hear the rattle the overhead door always made.

After unlocking the front door with his key card, he slipped his boots off and carried them as he tiptoed inside. For a minute he thought everything was silent and empty, but as he was slinking through the front room and down the hallway, he heard sounds coming through the open living room doorway. Soft, romantic music, muted voices, a faint crackle and the occasional pop as a fire burned.

Open flame was a big no-no down here, since even with all their careful but discreet ventilation it wouldn't take much for someone to die from asphyxiation. Not to mention the smoke would eventually escape through cracks in the soil and reach the surface, giving away their location. But romantic-minded rats eventually worked around this and developed special clean-burning gels that were then placed in a faux fireplace setting, complete with fake wooden logs and a brick mantel.

As Saber was crawling by the open doorway, he heard the clink of wineglasses, followed by his mother saying something too low for him to hear. There was laughter in her voice, and he could easily picture his parents sitting together all cozy-like on the couch. Either that or they were getting ready to do things that would traumatize his impressionable teenage mind. He crawled on in a hurry.

After turning a corner he got to his feet again and slid his boots back on, then slipped into the utility room and opened the door to the garage. He closed it behind him and switched on the lights. The track lighting glinted off the glossy black surface of his dad's bike, making the polished chrome gleam. Maybe it was the shadows the lighting created, but he would swear the behemoth bike looked bigger than it did yesterday.

Riding it was out of the question, since the revving of an engine that big was probably heard on the next planet over. And since he still couldn't open the overhead door without alerting someone to what he was doing, he started on the first part of his plan: getting his dad's bike through the house and out the front door. Good thing all underdweller houses were designed to be roomy, on the off-chance that a large amount of rats and supplies suddenly needed to be crammed in one place due to a crisis.

Still, getting the monster vehicle down the hallway and out the front door wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Hauling it up the single step leading from the garage to the utility room was a pain, and as hard as he tried to be quiet, the enormous tires rumbled as they rolled along the floor, even when he reached the carpet.

It forced him to go a lot slower than he thought he'd have to, but luckily, by the time he was passing by the living room again his parents had indeed moved on from casually sipping wine to activities that would keep him awake at night for weeks if he caught a glimpse of them. If that could really be considered lucky. At the very least the sounds masked any strange noises the bike made as Saber rolled it by while vaguely mumbling, "Didn't hear what I heard, didn't hear what I heard," to himself.

When he finally made it outside, he found himself faced with another dilemma. He in no way felt comfortable with getting on his dad's bike and riding it out of here. He in no way felt comfortable with this, period. Even though he'd said no at first, his best friend's latest scheme still hadn't sounded any crazier than anything else he had come up with when he first mentioned it. When brought up in the light-hearted, excited way Vector always spoke with, just about anything sounded less severe than it did once reality hit.

Even if he was curious about exactly what Vector planned to do, Saber was already experiencing stabs of guilt. His best friend had talked him into doing things he knew he shouldn't before, but this was the first time he had actually stolen something - and from his own father, no less. His father who was closely matched with his mother as the being he most respected on all of Mars.

But there was really no going back now. He would probably get caught trying to sneak back into the garage, and he'd discovered a long time ago that he'd hear it from Vector for wimping out for a lot longer than he'd hear it from his parents for getting into trouble. Either way he'd face the same outcome, but only by giving in to Vector would he save himself from days of disappointed whining. So, with a sigh of resignation, he grabbed the lifeless bike's handlebars and started walking.

There was no way he was riding. That would just be weird, like a five-year-old trying to wear his dad's pants. Just walking the monster of a bike through the cavern and into a tunnel felt silly. The handlebars were so high he had to reach up a little just to grip them. And he had to lean over in order to grip them both, because just holding on to one would make the front end twist as he walked. So he walked with an awkward lean. All the while he kept expecting someone to stop him - or his dad to come running up demanding what the heck he was doing - but he only got a handful of very confused stares.

"Just taking her out for some air," he imagined saying if anyone asked. A hysterical giggle started to bubble up.

Walking the whole way through the outer tunnel took ages, but that was fine with him. It would be dark by the time he got to the surface again, which was what he wanted. His only hurdle now were the guards, one placed on either side of the inner and outer doors. Generally, someone going out wasn't given nearly as much attention as someone coming in, especially after they had already been scanned and given the okay to go through by the guard on the opposite side of the door. At the first door, the guard stopped him and gave him a long, bemused stare, but in the end he decided not to ask. The guard at the second door was another story. Time for the second part of his plan.

"Does your daddy know you have that?" the guard asked.

"Bet you can guess the answer to that," Saber responded blandly.

"Thought so," the burly, bored-looking rat said. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't contact your daddy right this second and tell him what you're doing?"

Saber didn't know if it was enough to satisfy a bored guard, but he had made sure to sneak away from Vector while he was absorbed in an arcade game earlier today and bought a small flask of the strongest drink Slingshot carried. He took it out from where he'd tucked it into his cargo pants and handed it to the guard.

"Are you bribing me?" the muscular rat asked. "Not only that, you risk intoxicating somebody who's supposed to keep watch against intruders and could potentially put others in danger as a result. That what you're doing?"

Saber blinked placidly. "Uh huh...?"

Grinning, the guard took the flask and tossed his head back. He wiped his mouth with a cough. "Just checking."

He unlocked the door and went on drinking, and Saber hurried through. Getting to the surface and taking a break would be a relief; his arms were getting sore from pushing, and his back was starting to hurt. When he finally emerged from the tunnel and the wall closed behind him, he paused to draw in a refreshing breath of chilly night air.

Vector was right where he left him, and in far from a good mood. "Are you trying to set a record for the slowest rodent on the planet today?" he demanded crossly as Saber neared. "Thought you underdwellers are supposed to be super speedy."

"You try hauling this thing," the sable hybrid groused.

He finally straightened up and rubbed his back with a wince. He had no idea how much his dad's bike weighed...and right now, he really didn't want to. He just knew that it was a bike unlike any other. A custom power cruiser made by his dad's own hands, with a little help from his best friend, Nitro. He'd put it together years before Saber was born, and it had been his pride and joy ever since. He had maintained it carefully all this time, repairing and replacing parts as needed. No ordinary bike could bear his father's bulky weight, so the frame was extra sturdy. Even when it wasn't running, when it was motionless and silent like it was now, it radiated raw power.

Thanks to the meticulous care from its owner, the vehicle's outsides glistened in the soft moonlight. Saber felt a stab of guilt again, along with a funny feeling of protectiveness. He knew from being a bike owner himself how attached a rodent got to his ride. This bike was his dad's most treasured possession. He didn't want anything to happen to it even if it wasn't his hide on the line.

But whatever Vector was up to, he still wasn't talking. With a chuckle of glee that would make his father proud, he unrolled a cloth filled with tools right on the sand, like an archeologist ready to start on a dig he knew would make history. "Just stand back and watch the master at work."

Saber stepped back, but it wasn't with a whole lot of reverence. Hearing the sharp pop as his best friend opened the engine made him flinch. For the next few minutes he listened to the sounds of metal tools scraping around the bike's shiny innards. All he could hope was that whatever Vector was doing wasn't going to leave any damage, or noticeable signs that someone had been up to something.

Finally, as the light of Phobos and Deimos grew brighter in the sky, illuminating the stars, Vector closed the engine again with a grunt of satisfaction. "All done. You may gaze in wonder and awe now."

Saber gazed, but it wasn't in awe. More like confusion. "Doesn't look any different to me."

Vector 'tsked' in disappointment. "You need to start looking beyond the surface, bud. It's what's on the inside that counts."

The sable rat-cross wrinkled his nose and continued to look, but he still didn't see what his nutty best friend was driving at. And then, for seemingly no reason at all, something changed. With a faint clicking sound, the bike's headlights blinked on. Literally blinked, like a sleepy set of eyes suddenly opening for the first time.

Saber felt a funny chill, and not because it was extra cold out tonight. "What...?"

He stared dumbly, the sense that something was staring back creeping over him. It almost made his fur stand on end. "What did you _do_?"

Vector was wearing his most smug, triumphant of grins. "Congrats, bud. You are now the first rat to possess a bike with an AI."

Saber nearly fell over. "What are you, nucking futs?" he cried.

His best friend cackled in his ear. "You're eighteen now, y'know. You need to start using insults that sound a little more grown up."

"Can't. My mom taught me better."

"But your mom swears."

"Okay, my dad taught me better."

"Your dad swears, too. Worse than your mom."

"I said they taught me better, I didn't say it made sense. Anyway, it'd be bad manners. There's a lady present."

As he spoke, Saber looked over his shoulder. A few feet behind them Vector's bike was parked next to one of the outcroppings. The white rodent had a red-and-black custom-built racer model than was all but identical to his father's, just a little smaller and more streamline. She had been the number one lady in Vector's life since he was sixteen. He lovingly called her Red Ebony, which was exactly the kind of oxymoronic name you'd expect a whacked out mouse like him to pick.

Most riders, whether they were male or female, followed the tradition of feminizing their ride. A rare few made them masculine, while others skipped the anthropomorphizing and just left their bikes nameless 'its.' Saber was a member of the third category.

Looking at her now, he would swear that Red Ebony had edged back a little, closer to the rocks. Almost like she was nervous and looking for something to cower against. Saber turned his attention back to the grinning half-mouse. "You're friggin' crazy, you know that?"

"No - genius. Unbelievable genius. Don't be shy with the applause."

"Will slapping you silly count? This is my _dad's_ bike."

"I know. So?"

"So? Why didn't you do the sane thing and use mine? I have zero claim to this bike."

Vector gave him a look that said he thought his reasoning was too obvious to explain. "Because your bike's puny," he said frankly. "If you're going to make history, you need to do it big."

Groaning, Saber opened his mouth to argue and point out how stupid this was...but he shut it with a heavy sigh. He knew better than to state the obvious - that the thrill of installing an AI in a rat bike would be extremely short-lived. Once his dad found out, he'd probably make them remove it. But that was Vector for you. For all his brains and mechanical prowess, he never saw beyond the initial results to one of his schemes. He wasn't what you would call a 'big picture' kind of guy.

But what was done was done, and now he had a sentient motorcycle in front of him. This would be a little less intimidating if said motorcycle wasn't big enough to flatten him in one lazy pass. That sense of raw power had increased many fold, and the headlights seemed extra bright as they shone on him. The engine still wasn't running, but he could detect a feeling of readiness, of being able to take off in less than a heartbeat. It made his own heart thump heavily.

He gave another look over his shoulder. His own bike, still parked down in the city, seemed so small right now. So safe. And Red Ebony was definitely cowering. "I still think you're crazy."

"No more talk," said Vector, with mock solemnity. "It's time for action."

He held his deadpan expression for a second or two longer before his usual grin broke free. With a whoop of excitement, he turned and leaped up onto the broad, glossy black seat of the bike he'd just altered. Saber cringed, expecting it to buck like an angry bronco and throw him face-first into the sand.

Nothing happened...although he thought he heard a faint grumbling, like the sound a dog made when it was trying to take a nap but some pesky kid wouldn't leave it alone.

"Well?" said Vector, as he scooted to the back of the large seat. It wasn't built for two, but since it was designed to compensate for his dad's bulky frame plus a little extra space for his wife, there was plenty of room for two average-size rodents to sit comfortably. "You're the birthday boy. That means you get the honor of taming the savage beast."

His choice of words made Saber's stomach flip-flop. The notion that they had just unleashed the motorcycle equivalent of a wild animal had already been scratching at the back of his mind; now it came roaring forward, along with the sense that he was doing something really, really stupid.

But maybe he was just being paranoid. After all, every mouse bike he had ever seen was roughly the same: a loyal, loving companion. Completely devoted to her master even at the expense of her own chassis. And Vector was the one who installed the AI...

Swallowing down his nerves, he got on. Or rather, with a little effort, he climbed on. Unlike Vector, who was two inches taller than him anyway, he wasn't much of a wild leaper. And the bike he now sat on was designed to carry his father's seven-foot frame as well as endure the rough kind of riding it was put through. It made Saber feel like he was sitting on a tank disguised as a motorcycle.

He wiggled around in the seat for a moment, trying to get comfortable. He was used to his own bike, smallish and sleek and made for maneuverability. It felt funny sitting up so straight, and to reach for long handlebars that stuck out instead of being short and tucked close to the sides. His fingers had barely gripped them when the machine suddenly jolted to life.

With its usual subtly, the engine fired up with a roar that echoed into the distance - probably for miles. Saber's heart popped into his mouth. Behind him, Vector was whooping with joy. "It's alive!" he crowed. "And I'm the mad scientist here, so yes, I'm allowed to say that."

"You've got the mad part right," Saber muttered.

His words were all but lost under the rumble of the engine. With a thick swallow, he loosened his death-grip on the handlebars and reached for the throttle. He had barely given it a tiny squeeze before the bike shot forward like an explosive from a cannon.

It's okay, he told himself, as they sailed across the sand so fast it made his eyes tear. It may have an AI now, but it's still just a bike. It has to do what you tell it to.

To confirm this, he gave the handlebars a tentative turn to the right. The roaring vehicle obeyed, heading out onto a flat, open area. He couldn't seem to adjust the speed, but at least he could control where they were going. You're in control, he reminded himself, as he flipped the visor of his helmet down to block the bite of the wind. You have control.

Somehow, that didn't stop the wild pounding of his heart.

Oblivious to his borderline panic, Vector was whooping at the top of his lungs, leaning back in his seat with his arms stretched over his head like the mad mouse he was. All of a sudden they were bearing down on a rock half-hidden in the sand, slanted upward a little. Before Saber had a chance to react they had ridden over it - and vaulted into the air at an angle for a moment before landing again with a harsh impact that rattled his teeth. Vector abruptly fell silent. If it wasn't for the tail he hastily snagged around Saber's waist, he would be lying headfirst in the sand right now.

He behaved after that, clinging to Saber's shoulders as the wild ride continued. Saber was still barely applying speed, but the breakneck pace didn't waver. All he could hear was the sound of the engine and the wind whipping around the outside of his helmet. Without warning, the handlebars jerked in his hands. The bike veered to the left.

"I think you're going the wrong way," Vector told him, shouting so he could be heard.

You have no idea, Saber thought. They were heading straight for the nearest entrance to Neothera.

His shoulder was tapped. "Go that way," the white mouse behind him said, pointing in the direction of some dunes off to their right. Dunes the crazy rodent no doubt thought would be fun to ride over and swerve around.

"I can't."

"Sure you can," said Vector, exasperated.

"Seriously, I _can't_."

Saber had a hard grip on the handlebars now and was pulling with all his might, but the front end wouldn't budge. It stopped turning left and straightened out on its own, making a beeline for...

The young hybrid's heart dropped this time, sinking far into his stomach. His hands went cold. He let go of the throttle completely, but the bike just kept going. And straight ahead, visible in the light of the twin moons, he could see a towering figure standing with his feet apart and his arms folded. The very image of fatherly disapproval.

Again without warning, the bike pulled to a stop, so hard and sudden the back end popped up. Both passengers were violently ejected and landed in a painful heap at the rat's feet, chest-first. Vector let out a groan; Saber pushed himself onto his knees and looked up meekly.

Arms still folded, his father looked the two of them over before his lone yellow eye drifted to his bike. Except for a faint puttering sound, it had gone quiet. The sudden silence left a ringing in Saber's ears.

"What did you two do this time?"

Saber cringed. His dad almost never raised his voice, even when he was really, really mad. Even when his son had seriously screwed up - especially when his son had seriously screwed up - he spoke in a low, emotionless voice. Somehow, that was worse than if he just yelled at him and told him to get home.

Vector straightened his helmet and sat up. "We, uh, decided to make history and installed a good old mouse AI in your bike. Happy birthday!"

Saber elbowed him sharply for the 'we' part. His dad lifted one eyebrow. His expression was like granite. "I don't remember giving you permission to touch my bike. And it isn't my birthday."

"Whoops."

A touch of weariness in his eye now, Dad gave his head a sharp jerk in the direction of mouse territory. "You. Get out of here."

Vector was happy to comply. He scrambled to his feet and took off, leaving his best friend alone, still kneeling in the sand. Saber worried the seam of his cargo pants as his dad looked at his bike again. The sentient vehicle drew a touch closer, making a funny sound now. Almost like it was purring.

Dad knitted his eyebrows together for a second before his expression hardened again. His head jerked in the other direction. "Get home," he ordered. "And tell your mother I said to punish you."

He moved closer to his bike. As Saber got up and brushed himself off, his dad reached out and rested his large hand on the sleek curve of one handlebar. The bike purred again. "What are you going to do?" Saber asked, polite and timid. He would feel bad if his dad up and ripped the AI out. It didn't seem fair.

A smile tugged at the corners of the towering rat's mouth. "She and I are going to go for a ride."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

The morning after the trip to the hospital, Throttle woke up early. The back wall of the bedroom was an outside wall, and above the bed were two small, narrow windows nestled up near the ceiling. Their height made them private while at the same time allowing warm morning light to filter into the room, glinting off things like memorabilia they'd picked up on road trips, picture frames and posters that hung on the walls.

Tamerin was still asleep, her arm draped across his chest and her head on his shoulder. With his mind on everything he learned yesterday, Throttle slowly reached over and picked up his new data pad from where he'd left it on the nightstand, careful not to jostle the bed and wake his mate.

They were making similar products on Earth these days, but Imeerans had been manufacturing data pads for centuries. Imeerans were a save as much time and space as possible kind of race, so the hand-sized units were designed to last a person a lifetime - a second one was never needed. The battery never drained and it was impossible to run out of memory. And you could use it for pretty much anything: reading - or writing - books, drawing maps, storing important dates and pictures. They even picked up broadcast signals, so you could use it as a mini TV or radio if you wanted.

Tamerin mostly used her for reading, and as a former soldier accustomed to recording detailed reports, she was disciplined about writing in her personal journal. She also liked to experiment in the kitchen and recorded some of the exotic recipes she came up with. Since she'd had hers for years, her data pad was fully customized, with a pink-and-blue interface and animated backgrounds made to look like the ocean.

Throttle's was brand new, so all it had was the default interface; bland black text on a milky gray background. Since he wasn't pushing any buttons right now, the unit was on standby, the screen blank and lifeless. The unlit background was a dull grayish-bronze, the glossy surface of the screen gleaming in the sunlight. Aside from the default programs, it only had one other feature: the program Dee had installed before they left the hospital yesterday. The one that would be keeping tabs on his artificial organs from now on.

He was the kind of mouse who was more interested in riding out in the open wind than fiddling around with something with buttons and a computer screen, so he didn't really see himself bothering with adding anything more. On the other hand, as he set the data pad aside again, he could already imagine what Tam would be doing with hers for the next few months. Making lists of baby things to buy. Comparing designs and color schemes for a new baby room. Listing baby names and organizing them from most to least favorite.

After they got back home yesterday, he could tell that her mind was already running in that direction. She hadn't said anything about it, but she didn't need to. He knew her more than well enough to know that how long it had been since conception didn't matter to her. The point was she had conceived, and that meant there was a ton of things she needed to start planning. But she wasn't saying anything about those plans because she could sense where his mind was, too. Right now, his only plan was to wait and see what happened.

This thought remained in the back of his mind as he started wondering how long it was going to be before his new data pad utilized its principal function. He was still mulling it over when Tamerin suddenly stirred. Eyes still closed and murmuring contentedly, she stretched her long limbs before settling against him again. Just like a lazy, sleepy cat. She even rubbed her cheek against his fur before cuddling her face against his neck.

"Feels like your thoughts are all over the place," she noted drowsily. "What's on your mind?"

"Yesterday," he said vaguely. "I was wondering how long I have before my lungs collapse or something."

He stopped as something else occurred to him, then said, "I just remembered - my eyes are artificial, too. Does that mean they'll break down someday?"

Considering how flawless his vision still was, that didn't seem likely - at least not for a long, long time. Opening her eyes and propping her chin on his shoulder, Tamerin thought this over. "I guess it's possible. If you're worried, they wouldn't hard to replace in advance."

Probably not, Throttle thought silently, remembering how quick his recovery had been when they were first inserted in his eye sockets. And that wasn't quite the direction he had been going, but his mate had already warmed to the idea. "Maybe you could try a different color next time," she suggested. "I'm thinking blue."

The tan mouse looked at the blue orbs gazing at him so intently, illuminated by the brightening sunlight. Likening them to a shell was no stretch; when the light hit them just right, the iridescent blue irises showed hints of sea-foam green, wisps of sunset pink. Made all the more unusual by the thin ring of black surrounding them.

"Like your eyes?" he guessed. "They're one of a kind. I wouldn't want to copy them."

Grinning, Tamerin playfully plucked at one of his antennas, lightly rolling the tip between her fingertips. "Not like mine, silly. I'm thinking something nice and deep. An ocean blue."

"You and your oceans," said Throttle, with a sigh of pretend exasperation. "If they ever do go, I'll just replace them with good ol' Martian mouse pink, thank you very much. Isn't pink one of your favorite colors?"

"Yes," his mate allowed. "But I like blue better."

She snuggled against him a moment more, kissed his muzzle, then rolled over and hopped out of bed. She didn't say anything as she started getting dressed, but Throttle could tell by her shift in mood that she was going out. "Are you going to eat first?" he wondered.

"I'll grab something on the way. I want to see Ash."

Ah. After learning that she was out of danger of excessive pain she at least wanted to share the news with her unofficially adopted little girl. Throttle didn't see any reason for her not to, even if he didn't plan on sharing the news himself just yet. While she was gone he wanted to go see what his bros were up to; he knew if they found out they would start teasing him, then congratulate him, and then start asking all those normal questions. If he wanted a boy or a girl, what kind of names he liked, how long he was going to wait before he bought baby's first bike. He wasn't ready to get that excited.

* * *

It was a few days before Saber saw Vector again. He was out in the middle of nowhere digging in a mound of grimy sand when the familiar buzz of a custom racer reached his ears and rapidly rode closer. Even though it had been a few days, Saber was willing to go a little longer before he saw his best friend again. Scowling, he crawled across the dirty sand and plunged the scoop he was holding into the moist center of what looked like a black puddle. The stench this dredged up almost made him gag. He had a mask on over his nose, but it only did so much.

He was coughing and fumbling to get the fruits of his labor into a plastic container when Vector reached him and pulled neatly to a stop. The white half-mouse folded his arms on top of the handlebars and leaned forward, hitting the switch that turned off the electronic visor of his helmet. "So, this is where you've been hiding," he noted.

There was a little too much amusement in his voice. Grumbling to himself, Saber snapped the container shut and put it into a thermal-like case with the others. He drew out an empty one and went back to work. "Was this your mother's idea?" Vector wondered.

"Who else's?" the sable hybrid groused. "'Go out and dig up some dung samples for the guys over in Research', she says. I had no idea analyzing the properties of animal poop was so important for science."

For a moment his best friend doubled over the handlebars with laughter. Muttering under his breath, Saber stabbed at the gooey puddle.

The wild, docile animals in question were grazing over by a small pool a few yards away. They were fat, bovine-like creatures, scarce once but now thriving in abundance and popular as a food source. At least they were up here. Down in Neothera they needed to mind their space, so their livestock was small. And a lot less messy.

As Saber finished filling the last container, Vector eyed one of the pudgy creatures, wagging its stubby tail as it munched on a blossom. "And here I thought you were looking for a date."

"Do you keep your head up your ass for the warmth?"

Instead of getting insulted, the white rodent went into hysterics again. "Woo!" he shouted, fist raised. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

"You have no idea what I've been through," Saber said seriously.

"I can make a reasonably educated guess."

After stifling a cough, Vector switched his visor back on and took deep, deliberate breaths. The half-rat put the container away and got to his feet, giving his best friend a deeply weary, pained look as he pulled his mask off. "I'm not talking about _this_. I don't want to go home anymore. Ever."

The white rodent eyed him with sudden sympathy. "That bad? Your parents fed up with you?"

"No. But if they were it'd be your fault. Correction - it _is_ your fault. It's all your fault."

Scowling again, he sealed the case and shouldered it. "I take it your dad didn't like his un-birthday present," said Vector.

"Try the opposite. He's gone mad-crazy for it. Started calling her his 'special lady.'"

The proud biker mouse snickered and patted his own bike affectionately. "What's wrong with that? They're all special ladies."

"He kept taking her for rides. Just the two of them."

"Sounds all right to me." Vector caressed the mouse insignia below the handlebars.

"My mom got jealous. Angrily jealous. So jealous that she decided to remind my dad who the real lady in his life is."

His shudder was paired with a whimper. "And she'll remind him anywhere, anytime. Yesterday I caught them in the garage. On the tool bench. I'll never be able to use that tool bench again."

Instead of sympathizing with his obvious pain, Vector merely sniggered. "That's nothing, bud. I've lost count how many times I've walked in on my parents. On tool benches, my dad's bike, the auto repair lift, the kitchen table..."

Saber was cringing and ready to cover his ears. "Oh, _stop_."

He had his suspicions about their own kitchen table, and really didn't want to think about how it and other surfaces at home might have been used over the years. Make that misused.

"Ah, come on. You're eighteen now, remember?"

"Maybe so. But there are lines that shouldn't be crossed."

His best friend looked like he was getting bored with this conversation. With a stretch, he asked, "You ready to go yet?"

"Yes," Saber sighed. "I need to take this over to the lab."

The white hybrid instantly brightened, his dark eyes lighting up. "Oh - right. I'll go with you, and later we can talk about you moving out so you don't have to worry about catching your parents knocking booties anymore."

Saber had to admit, that was an awfully enticing incentive. After peeling off the gloves he'd been wearing and tucking them into a bag he could throw away later, he mounted his bike and started the trek to the research laboratory.

It was one of several facilities built at a large outpost a few miles from the primary mouse city. Having it there made it easier to travel out to gather samples, many of them as unappealing as the ones he'd spent all morning digging for. All in the name of science. Saber didn't know what kind of profession he wanted now that he was out of school, but he was sure that becoming a scientist wasn't a possibility.

Little was said during the long ride, and when they pulled into the crisp, paved lot of the lab, Vector hopped off his bike and dumped his helmet before Saber had finished cutting the engine. Most who worked here knew them, since they visited from time to time and knew Michio pretty well. He was the one Saber was supposed to bring the samples to, so after being let inside they boarded an elevator to the third floor. The place was just like you would imagine; sterile in both look and smell, grayish walls, plain flat carpeting in the halls and tile floors in the labs, specially treated so they wouldn't conduct electricity. Even then, if you weren't wearing rubber shoes when you entered one of the labs, you were expected to pull a stretchy glove-like material over your feet. Whatever was necessary to avoid accidentally creating a spark that could end up shorting out the delicate equipment the rooms were crowded with.

Since the two of them already wore rubber boots with insulated soles they got to skip that step, but they were expected to slip on special lab coats over their regular clothes in case they were bringing in dust. Despite the formalities, the mood permeating the room they entered wasn't a rigid one. A happy husband-wife mouse duo was working in a corner with a microscope, while a male mouse was busy writing something on a chart as another mouse typed something on the computer they were standing next to. The chatter in the room was casual, and the pair sitting on an otherwise empty plastic table in the middle of the room were even more casual.

Saber knew them both well, having grown up with them. The furry one sitting close to one end of the table was Ako, who despite being several years younger had been Michio's closest friend for as long as Saber could remember. He worked as an assistant here at the lab these days, and he lived with Michio and a few of the scientist's friends from school in what Michio described as a 'rockin' bachelor pad'. If a place that looked like a small chem lab could be considered 'rockin'.

In spite of the title of 'he' and the fact that he lived with 'rockin' bachelors', Ako was actually genderless. Saber had only been five when he went through his final metamorphosis and hadn't really understood why the furry creature had gone away for a little while and come back walking on two legs instead of four. But as he got older he had come to understand that repeatedly changing form and not having any gender was normal for Ako's species.

He still looked the same way he did after changing at age ten, just taller. He had grown to an average height with a slim build, and while he walked on two legs and had facial features similar to someone like Vector's mom, there was still something distinctly animal about him. And not just because he never wore clothes and was covered in thick brown fur everywhere except his face, hands, and feet. He was sitting on the edge of the table with his legs drawn up so his feet were up near his haunches, almost like a dog. Saber half expected him to lift his toes and scratch behind his pointed ear.

Everyone called him a 'him' because it was nicer than saying 'it', but those who didn't know any better sometimes mistook him for a 'she'. Saber could understand why; at a glance, the heart-shaped face, big blue eyes and delicate lips were decidedly feminine. And despite being twenty-two, the voice Ako spoke with was a lot like a child's - easily sounding like it could belong either to a young male or a young female. The mane of dark green hair that hung to the small of his back was also much more feminine than masculine.

But while others sometimes paused and gave the unusual creature a puzzled look, Saber gave a casual, friendly hello as he walked by. Ako glanced at him and waved his long fingers before leaning forward a little, intently watching what the mice by the computer were doing.

Vector was much more interested in the other figure perched on the table. She was balanced on one edge with her knees pulled to her chest, her long, skinny arms snugged around her legs and her chin rested on her knees. In her way, Astrid was every bit as unusual as Ako. She was half mouse, but you'd never know it by looking at her. Like the other half of her parentage, she had brightly colored skin and hair. Unlike either side of her parentage, she was bone-skinny and had gawky, bird-like limbs. Her arms and legs looked oddly long for her small body, and her fingers were almost as long as Ako's animal-like ones.

But this was apparently what happened when a Martian mouse and an Imeeran got together and had a baby. Or at least this was what had happened when her parents had a baby. Saber had heard that there was no guarantee anything like her would ever be birthed again, even by the same parents. Imeeran DNA had too many unknown factors in it for anyone to be sure. Breeding outside the species was a game of pure chance for them.

Saber liked Astrid, but he felt bad for her, and for more reason than one. When someone saw her for the first time, you never knew how they were going to react. Looking beyond her gangly limbs, she was what some might consider pretty. She had huge, doll-like gray eyes that went starry when she was happy. Her forehead was high, her nose small and delicate, her lips thin and her mouth a little on the wide side, maybe even a little too wide for her narrow chin. But Saber had seen both mice and rats respond to her with the same interest that customers did to Vector's mom - her appearance was otherworldly and exotic to them. To others...she just looked strange. Alien to the point of creepy.

It didn't really matter. Nearly everyone avoided getting too close to her for safety's sake - himself included. Those long bones of hers were fragile and very easily broken. Even though she was the sweetest, most gentle girl you could ever hope to meet, he tried not to get close to her out of fear of accidentally hurting her. The lab workers felt the same way, clearly giving her a wide breadth as they passed back and forth in front of the table.

Not Vector. With a boldness that almost made Saber cringe, he went right up to the breakable girl, grabbed her bony shoulders and pressed a noisy kiss to her forehead. "Hiya, Asteroid!" he greeted cheerfully.

Saber rolled his eyes; Astrid giggled and gave the white mouse a quick hug. She really didn't seem to mind his rough touch - even though the sable hybrid knew his best friend had to cause her discomfort sometimes. Aside from fragile bones, Astrid had highly sensitive skin. Heavy clothes could end up giving her a rash, so her wardrobe was light as a feather. Today she had on a sleeveless tissue linen blouse, and - speaking of tissues - a skirt that looked like it would blow away if she sneezed too hard. They were both a pale blue that complemented her violet skin. Her teal hair moved around her shoulders like kelp as she put her chin on her knees again.

The half-rat tried repeatedly to get his best friend's attention before giving up. Vector had a weird habit of going oblivious to everyone else whenever Astrid was around. The two continued to talk while Saber moved to the back of the room, looking for Michio. He didn't seem to be around, so he headed for an open door that led into another hallway. Behind him, he heard one of the mouse scientists started talking to Vector - asking him about a subject sure to get his attention. After all, it was bound to make a scientist curious, knowing that Vector was essentially a glorified test tube baby.

Vector's usual reaction when someone brought this up was, "Neat, huh?" He thought it made him extra special - uniquely unique.

"So, you were really conceived in vitro?" the scientist asked.

"Yup."

"You parents' cells were combined manually before being injected into your mother?"

"Uh huh."

"And in only one night?"

"Yes indeed."

"Just one night? Are you sure?"

The sudden pressing of that particular detail made the hyper mouse pause. "Uh huh...?"

It was kind of an unusual story, one his parents probably wouldn't have ever mentioned to their son - or anyone else - but Vector had overheard someone else talking about it once and demanded to know the whole tale. He didn't seem to mind at all that he hadn't been conceived the 'fun way.' Again, it made him extra special.

"My parents were taken and my mom impregnated with me in just one night," Vector reiterated, as Saber peered around a tall file cabinet. His best friend was still standing by the table, arms folded. "My mom even checked the date and time when she got home. Only a few hours passed at most."

The male scientist he was talking to looked intrigued - to the point he was eyeing Vector like he'd just found his latest specimen. "It's just unusual, that's all," he mused, rubbing his chin. "Ordinarily, when forming in vitro an embryo needs to develop for several days before it can be put in a female's uterus. Was something special done to your embryo to enable it to safely grow in your mother's womb so soon?"

Vector gave him a strange, confused look. "How the heck would I know? I wasn't even a fetus yet."

"Or maybe," the mouse went on, his excited interest growing, "your cells were stimulated so they would have a rapid growth spurt right before being implanted in your mother. And if so, who's to say that didn't affect your overall growth for life?"

The white half-mouse was edging away now. "Uh, there's no way we can really be sure, right?"

"Hardly. I'm sure analyzing a small sample will tell us plenty."

Vector darted around to the other side of the table. "Sorry, but I'm not handing out any free samples today."

"Ah, come on. Just a little hair. It's for science."

"No samples and no hairs!"

Undaunted and determined, the scientist followed him around the table, producing what looked like a pair of tweezers. Vector grimaced and picked up speed; grinning, the mouse quickly gave pursuit, while the other scientists in the room chuckled as the scene rapidly turned into a playful chase. Saber was watching in amusement when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Michio standing in the doorway behind him. "Ah - just the guy I was looking for." He took the case from his shoulder and passed it to him. "Enjoy your poop."

Michio had always had a good sense of humor and smirked wryly as he accepted the case. "As much enjoyment as you had collecting it, I imagine," he noted.

"Not likely."

Shuddering, Saber followed the goat-like being out into the hall. "What do you need that stuff for, anyway? Compost? Fuel?"

"Actually, we've noticed an increase in minerals in the soil around that area," Michio explained. "Naturally this will have an effect on plant life, and the animals who eat those plants."

"Ah. Naturally."

The two of them stepped to one side to make room for a male mouse walking in the opposite direction. He was looking over some graphs on a clipboard, occasionally making notations in pen. Even if it smelled kind of medicine-y, Saber didn't mind coming here. Much like the goofball chase in the next room, everyone always looked like they were having a good time.

Still, after a morning like the one he'd just had, he was ready to move on and have some fun. "If that's all you need from me today, I think I'll go spend my time doing something a little more sanitary."

Smirking, Michio started to say something - just as the mouse that just walked by let out a gasp. His clipboard and pen clattered to the floor. His head had jerked in the direction of the room Saber just left, his face a mask of surprise and puzzlement.

And it wasn't just him. Every mouse in the long hallway had stopped what they were doing and were staring in the direction of the medium-sized room. Some were poking their heads around doorways. Their expressions all matched. Saber had seen it all before, and knew exactly the cause of the sudden, silent stares. And as he took off in a jog, he knew just what he was going to find as he hurried back into the room. It made his heart sink with a twinge of pain.

By the time he rounded the file cabinet blocking the view of the plastic table, the mice in the room were in motion. Some were stepping forward uneasily, while others were edging back. The uncertainty they felt was plain on each of their faces. They all knew the stories, too. They wanted to help, but they didn't know if trying would actually help or just make the situation worse. Ako, who had seen this happen plenty of times too, was standing over by the computers. His shoulders and furry pointed ears were drooping in sadness.

The plastic table was cocked on a sharp angle, like someone had bumped into it. Hard. Vector was kneeling on the floor next to it, bent over the small figure curled up in a tight ball on the cold tile. He kept saying, "I'm sorry." Over and over.

His eyes were almost wild with worry as he helped Astrid sit up, and it looked like he had gone pale under his fur. Saber knew that it wasn't just worry and remorse that had him so upset. Like all Imeerans, Astrid was empathic, but she had also been born a telepath. She could control it these days, but when she was really upset - or when she was suddenly in severe pain - her emotions would be broadcast to anyone within receiving distance. Guaranteed to make every antenna-bearing mouse snap their head in her direction. Saber had been born without them, so he could only imagine what it was like to sense someone else's pain.

He knew that Astrid had to be feeling plenty. As Vector cradled her in his arms, her gray eyes were wide and round, her violet face ashen. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her hands trembled as she gripped at her left wrist.

Saber didn't need to ask if it was broken. All of her bones were easy to break, but the smallest and most prominent ones were easier still. Out of all of them, her wrist and finger bones had been broken the most over the course of her life. Her ankles and toes came in a close second. And because they had been broken so many times, her tiny wrists snapped with no effort at all, usually in the same place as the last time. Or the time before that. Or the time before that.

If that wasn't bad enough, her heightened sensitivity meant she felt pain more keenly than someone normally would. It was amplified many times, burning and searing until she was shaking from head to toe and her teary eyes had squeezed to slits. And yet in all the years he had known her, Saber had never heard her complain once.

With nothing but quiet sniffles, she sank into Vector's chest and hid her face. Murmuring soothing words the whole time, the white half-mouse lifted her carefully. Saber heard him whisper that he was going to take her home. He decided not to follow. His best friend always went into a foul mood whenever Astrid was hurt - and the fact that he was responsible for it this time would only make him madder. Saber knew better than to bother him until after he'd cheered up again.

For now, he quietly retrieved Astrid's shoes (satin slippers, the only kind of shoes she could stand wearing) from where she'd left them and passed them to Vector just before the half-mouse hurried out of the room. The silence lifted a little after he was gone, though it didn't rise above an unhappy murmuring. Ako absently brushed back his long, bushy tail. "I'm going to go pick her some flowers," he said, before leaving the room.

Saber left, too. By the time he reached his bike, Red Ebony was long gone, her rider no doubt racing straight to his home city. After thinking about it for a minute, Saber decided to head over there, too. In a time like this, he knew just the place to go to lift his spirits. A place he knew that no matter what was going on, he was always welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

Sadly we have reached the end of the preview. I will get back to writing just as soon as I can. Enjoy the debut of one of the most ridonkulously adorable characters I've ever created.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

* * *

The next few days were quiet for Throttle. Tamerin was feeling energetic and kept going out, sometimes to see Ashlin, sometimes to see her mother, whom she'd also shared the news with. Whenever she was gone he would head out to see what his bros were up to, or go for a long ride, but that afternoon he found himself at home alone. At least until the door suddenly buzzed - repeatedly.

Eyebrows lifted, Throttle opened the front door and found Vector standing outside. The white half-mouse looked nothing like his usual carefree self. His easygoing expression had been replaced with one of worry, and even after the door opened his eyes didn't leave the figure huddled close at his side. He had his arm around her small shoulders and was whispering reassuringly to her.

The tan mouse didn't need to ask why. He had already spotted the temporary cast on Astrid's left forearm and could figure out what had happened from there. Something that happened much, much too often.

Vector looked up. "I was going to take her home after we left the hospital, but she wanted to come here."

Throttle gave a nod of understanding. As much pain was in her eyes right now, he knew that Astrid didn't want to worry Joy. She'd figure out on her own that something was up when her roommate didn't come home...but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Astrid lifted her doll-like eyes and looked at Vector, her expression pleading. "Don't tell my parents. Not yet."

The white-furred Martian gave his head a vigorous shake. "I won't."

He gave her a gentle hug, repeatedly kissed her cheek, then tore himself away and left. With a shaky breath, Astrid drifted forward and sank against her 'big brother.'

Once upon a time Throttle had been afraid to handle the fragile girl, but he'd learned in the last nineteen years exactly how much force she could and couldn't take. And he knew that even if it irritated her skin sometimes, she much preferred frequent loving touches from her family than never being touched at all. With great care, he lifted her weightless frame in his arms and carried her to the guest room.

"C'mon, little sister. Let's get you comfortable."

* * *

There was a section of the primary mouse city that felt more like home to Saber than his own neighborhood did. Coming here always made him feel relaxed - safe. Like he belonged. With something pleasant stirring in his chest, he parked his bike outside a residence he knew well and hit the buzzer beside the electronic door. A short moment later a small figure opened it - and hopped to hug him around the neck with a happy sound.

"Hey, sweetie," Ashlin exclaimed, kissing his cheek. "How are you?"

He was soon brought inside the cozy home, where he took off his boots before drifting to the living room. "I'm okay," he said, after politely turning down the offer of something to eat or drink. "I've been thinking of moving out and rooming with Vector, now that I'm eighteen and all."

"Sounds fun," the petite Martian said, with approval. "You should go for it."

Saber was glad she thought so.

Ashlin wasn't like his other babysitters, back when he was small and needed looking after. She and her husband had been more like a second set of parents - and in many ways still were. He knew he could always count on them, confide in them. It gave him a very comfortable, warm kind of feeling.

It wasn't just because Ashlin was his mother's best friend. He'd heard the story, as soon as he was old enough to know. How the small rat-cross had helped bring him into the world. He probably wouldn't have survived without her help - his mother either. But even before he'd known about that, he'd felt a special connection to her. He'd been able to tell even as a baby that she was someone his mother trusted to take care of him, more than she trusted anyone else. He didn't remember doing it, but he'd been told that until he was about three, he had called Ashlin 'Mom.' He could just imagine how that sounded when his actual mother came to pick him up. See you, Mom. Hiya, Mom.

He'd feel bad about it if he didn't know that Ashlin loved being called Mom. Just like she loved being a mom. Taking care of kids was about her favorite thing to do. Ako had grown up and moved out, but she still worked as a nurse in the maternity wing at the hospital. And she had decided years ago that keeping it closed while waiting for orphans to show up somehow was silly, so she'd closed Stardust House Orphanage on Malteria and opened a new building here on Mars, near the hospital.

Because even though mousekind was thriving, things still happened. Children still ended up without parents. Only the orphanage wasn't just reserved for young mice. The doors were open to any orphan on the planet. Life was harder on the other species out there, and Ashlin had taken in numerous orphaned or abandoned sand raiders and surface rat babies. Anyone was allowed to adopt them, but so far, the different races had stuck to adopting their own. But as a result of her actions, the orphanage had turned into a place of neutrality - of equality. A place where any mother or father could come and give one of the kids a home, regardless of who they were fighting with outside.

It was her main job these days. She still spent time at the hospital when she was needed, but she didn't really lend a hand at the Davidson garage anymore. Vector and Joy and a few others their mom had hired handled things.

And speaking of jobs...

"Now that I'm out of school I should really find work," Saber noted, as he came to stand by the coffee table, hands in his pockets.

"Do you have any ideas yet?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I'm sure whatever you find, you'll be great at it."

Ears warming pleasantly, the sable hybrid glanced down at his boots. His eye fell on the small basket nestled next to the coffee table. "Well, hey, Horex," he greeted cheerfully. "How's it going?"

Horex didn't answer - at least not in words. Wrapped up snugly in the basket in a fleece blanket covered with motorcycles, he gave a happy gurgle as he kicked his tiny feet. He was wearing blue-gray sleepers with his name embroidered on the front, and as Saber smiled down at him, he spouted baby gibberish around his blue pacifier. His big brown eyes were bright and alert. Puppy-dog eyes - literally.

Roughly four months ago he had shown up on the orphanage's doorstep. Ashlin had asked around, but no one seemed to know how he got there - until Joy stepped forward and explained. Saber was still wondering how she knew so much, but she said that she'd heard about a sand raider couple that had gotten together even though they were from different factions.

That was life on the surface these days. Some surface rats and sand raiders were doing pretty well, conducting business and using the rail lines mice had built years ago. Others were struggling, mostly because they weren't willing to accept help from others, especially not those who associated with mice. Others were doing poorer still. Barely surviving, and frequently clashing with others, often violently. As a result, over the years they had divided into various 'factions', groups comprised of like-minded individuals. Most were only made up of one or the other, but some groups included both rats and sand raiders.

The two factions Joy was talking about were one that was doing okay and one that was starving. After the male from the first faction impregnated the female from the second, he decided that he couldn't risk getting kicked out by bringing in an outsider and left the mother of his child to fend for herself. After the baby was born the mother was afraid both of what the other members of her faction would think and of not being able to feed him. And so on the doorstep of Stardust House he was left.

Hearing a story like that had been more than Ashlin could take. By nightfall she had all the necessary paperwork filled out and her new son snug and cozy in his new room.

She was bending over the basket now, her face aglow with motherly love as she lifted the plump baby and cradled him against her shoulder. Horex gave a happy a little yip, nuzzling her cheek with his tiny black nose. Laughing softly, Ashlin hugged him close - just as the vidphone let out a quiet trill. She glanced at it, then looked at Saber, eyes questioning.

Saber didn't hold babies very often, but Horex usually didn't squirm much, so he took the four-month-old carefully. Ashlin moved over to a small desk against one wall, where she sat and opened the top half of a small, rectangular silver object. The trilling stopped and the screen lit up; she spoke in a quiet voice to whoever was on the line.

Horex fidgeted and spit his pacifier out. Saber tickled his nose, making him giggle and lick his chops. Ashlin said 'not today' and 'have fun' about something before saying goodbye and closing the screen, ending the call.

"That was Tam," she reported as she took her son again. "She wanted to know if I felt like going shopping for baby things."

"Don't you have enough already?" Saber wondered.

Horex not only had Ako's old room, but all the baby toys and things his parents couldn't bear to throw out or give away once he had outgrown them. Plus about a bazillion other things.

The small Martian hesitated for a second. "It's not for me," she said, gently rocking her arms as Horex started to yawn. "I don't think she'll mind if I tell you. She and Throttle are expecting."

"Oh."

It took a few seconds for that to fully sink in. When it did, he couldn't help but feel a little funny, deep down. For the second time in history, a Martian mouse and an Imeeran were having a baby. Would it work out better this time, or would he or she turn out just like Astrid?

His concern must have reached his face, because Ashlin was studying him with a frown. Before Saber knew it, the three of them were sitting on the couch. Horex dozed against one of Ashlin's slender shoulders while Saber placed his head on the other. He let the whole unhappy scene at the lab spill out.

"Poor Vector," was Ashlin's first thought when he finished. "He's going to beat himself up over this for days."

Saber had figured as much. Now that his punishment was over, he was probably going to be kind of lonely for a little while. But when Vector was sulking, it was best to just wait until he resurfaced on his own instead of going to check on him.

"I'll bring Astrid her favorite soup later," Ashlin decided, before getting up from the couch. "Right now I'm going to put this one to bed, and then maybe I'll go find out what that husband of mine is up to."

Taking the hint, Saber got up and went to grab his boots. Ashlin paused and looked at him for a moment. "I know you already know this, but...whenever you need something, you can come see us, day or night. Modo and I are always here for you, no matter what."

* * *

When Tamerin came home later, Astrid was still napping. The snow-skinned Imeeran came back empty-handed, claiming that she had been window shopping more than anything. Throttle had thought that going shopping for baby gear when she was less than a week pregnant was being a little hasty.

Her compiled list of ideas was forgotten as she went to check on her baby sister. As she usually did after sustaining yet another broken bone, Astrid went on sleeping for the rest of the evening. Ashlin dropped by at one point, having figured out on her own that if she wasn't home or at her parents' then she must have come here. After letting them know that her parents planned to stop by first thing in the morning, she handed over a container of Astrid's favorite soup and left quietly.

The sweet, fragile girl was still asleep by bedtime, so he and Tam decided to hit the sack early. Throttle couldn't remember dreaming anything after he drifted off, but a sudden jolt of panicked fear had him jerking awake. He automatically turned to his mate...but she was sleeping calmly, her expression serene. Throttle tenderly kissed her forehead before slipping out of bed.

The feeling of fear had gone already, but he knew where it had come from now. In his sleep it was hard to tell, but when he was awake and alert, there was no mistaking the source. It wasn't like how he could sense Tam. When her emotions were strong, they all but consumed him. Spreading down through his antennas, into his chest, penetrating his heart and flooding out into his veins. It was something to experience - especially when those emotions were positive.

It was a lot different when those emotions came from Astrid. When they spiked beyond her ability to contain them, they were felt by every mouse within range - a range that grew depending on how strongly she felt. But even when what she was feeling was intense, those emotions never did more than graze by. Tingle at the tips of your antennas before fading away. They didn't penetrate down to your soul like they did when you were mated to an Imeeran. Throttle was glad; it would feel weird if they did.

Now that he was awake, he recognized what he'd just felt, having felt it a lot when Astrid was small. She'd had frequent nightmares her whole life, though she never said what they were about. Whenever someone asked she would just sit there silently and shake her head.

Throttle could picture on his own what might make her kick up a sweat. Being lost and alone and too hurt to move. Or maybe just being left alone. She kept feelings like that to herself these days, but when she was younger, Throttle distinctly remembered her feeling guilty. She knew that taking care of someone like her was hard on those around her. She never said so out loud, but he knew she wished she could be stronger. She wanted to lift the burden from everyone in her life just as much as she wanted to lift it from herself. And even though she knew they all loved her, the part of her buried deep inside that was still a frightened child - the part that existed in everyone, in some form or another - was afraid that they would all lose their patience and give up on her.

Never, the tan mouse vowed silently, as he stepped toward the guest room. It used to be Michio's old room but now they kept it for company. When the door slid open with a quiet hiss, Astrid was sitting up in bed. Even in the darkness he could see trails of moisture staining her cheeks. She sniffled quietly as he came and sat on the edge of the bed.

He knew she wasn't going to tell him what she'd been dreaming about, so he didn't bother asking. He stayed silent as he gently coaxed her to lay down again before smoothing teal hair off her sweaty forehead. Her large eyes watched him, as sharp as his own in the darkness. They were still moist, but they held a look of trust. Even if nothing was said, the mere presence of family brought her comfort.

Like any Imeeran, Astrid could sense emotions through touch, so Throttle kept his thoughts calm as he continued to brush hair back from her face in a soothing manner. He kept his mind focused on safe, comforting things, hoping to coax away any lingering images left over from her nightmare. Her face was hot, but her hair felt cool and smooth against the pillow. Impossibly fine and delicate.

Everything about her was delicate. The bones of her shoulder visible through the gauzy fabric of her nightgown, her protruding collar bones, her slender arm and narrow wrist. He lifted her good hand, mindful of the prominent bones of her wrist and knuckles as he softly cupped her long fingers. A small smile touched her lips as those airy digits curled around his furry, much more substantial ones. But even as she smiled, he caught a flicker of something pass through her eyes, something that made her eyebrows draw together in a wince for a second. Just long enough for him to notice.

He tried not to let it, knowing she could sense it, but his heart ached quietly as he continued to hold her hand. Even a touch as soft as this was tough on her. Because even if she didn't have sensitive skin, having her wrists and finger bones broken so many times had painful repercussions. They'd learned a couple of years ago that premature arthritis had set in - a health issue Imeerans weren't bothered by.

Throttle couldn't imagine what that was like. To live in constant pain, to have the threat of injuries that would only add to that pain hovering over you at all times. The ache in his heart deepened; Astrid's hold on his hand tightened. Her eyes were dry now, her smile soft and assuring. "I'm okay," she said in a quiet voice.

His throat grew uncomfortably thick. She was the one in pain, the one faced with the possibility of that pain only growing worse as the years went by, yet she was the one trying to reassure him. Which wasn't anything new. She'd always tried to cheer up her loved ones when they were down - especially when they were down because of her. She didn't like it when someone was upset, and she especially didn't want anyone to get upset over her. It was just the way she was.

After carefully placing her hand on her middle, Throttle drew the blanket up to her shoulders. Leaning over her, he left as soft a kiss as he could on her forehead. "Love you, little sister," he whispered. "Now go back to sleep. I'll watch over you."

Astrid's smile turned sweet. "I know. Love you too, big brother."

* * *

Since his best friend was busy sulking and he didn't feel like going home and finding out what his parents might be up to, Saber hung around mouse territory for the next few days. He stayed busy while he was here, keeping his eyes and ears open for anyone looking to hire a new employee. After all, if he was going to move in with Vector soon, it made a lot more sense to get a job here than down in Neothera.

Just for the heck of it he asked Slingshot if he needed any extra hands, but the bartender already had a full staff of waiters, kitchen crew, and cute barmaids for when the bar was closed to minors.

The sun was setting as Saber stepped back outside. Disappointed with his lack of progress and his head full of other places he could try, he turned the corner of the large bar and grill - and almost walked straight into Joy. "What are you doing out here?" he asked in surprise.

The popular bar was towards the outskirts of town, not all that far from the Davidson garage. Still, even though her brother came here all the time for the arcade and a few mild drinks, Saber couldn't remember ever seeing Joy here by herself.

She looked pretty casual today, dressed in faded jeans, sneakers, and a denim jacket over a pink tank top. Shrugging, she slid her hands into her jacket pockets. "Just out for a walk," she said lightly. "You?"

"Job hunting," said Saber. "You know of anyone who needs a hard worker? I've been drawing a blank, here."

He expected her to shrug again and say no, but instead Joy brightened. "Sure, I know of a place where they're always looking for more help. Want me to show you?"

Saber didn't see any reason why not, so he followed her back where she had parked Pink Zephyr, which wasn't all that far from where he'd left his own bike. They rode to the other end of the city together, then headed out beyond the main border to a small freight yard built to the south. It was a place where cargo was dropped off, so it wasn't as big as some of the other yards, which were used to both load and unload and as a hub for freight cars both coming and going.

Joy rode past the cluster of buildings, the stacks of empty freight cars, the handful of platforms. She followed alongside one of the smaller rails used mainly by maintenance cars, heading out into an empty patch of land crisscrossed with more rails. The setting sun cast long shadows as the grass bent in their wake.

She eventually led him out to one of the larger freight yards. It wasn't as big as the main one, which had grown almost into a miniature city in the last eighteen years or so. This place was relatively quiet, used mostly as a storage facility for empty cars and cars that needed repairs. There were tall stacks of freight cars and empty cargo crates, an array of buildings including an engine house and a cafeteria, and storage sheds packed with replacement rails and other parts.

The ground of the yard was dusty, what little grass there was flat and yellowed. There were a few workers moving around, carrying supplies in and out of the buildings and either opening or sealing cargo crates. Joy took him to the foreman's office, which was at the edge of the yard and looked like a small shack with a metal roof. The foreman himself was sitting inside, parked behind a metal desk covered in folders and papers. File cabinets brimming with more papers were shoved anywhere they could fit. The whole room seemed to yell 'organized chaos.'

Joy introduced him to the burly, middle-aged foreman as a mouse named Torque. He had scruffy dark hair and looked a little unfriendly at first, but he stood up with a smile and shook his hand firmly. Joy got right to the point and explained that Saber was looking for a job.

"We could always use an extra hand to unpack and move the crates around here, if you're interested," said Torque. "Keep in mind that it's rough work. Lots of heavy lifting."

"I can handle it," Saber said confidently.

He wasn't as big as some, but he was no wimp. And physical labor was more to his taste than something that took a lot of brain power. Not that he wasn't smart, but there was something more satisfying to him when a job required strength. It made him feel good to give his muscles a workout and then step back to look at what he had accomplished. And as Torque went over the particulars with him, he saw that the job paid well - better than he thought it would.

He spent the next hour or so filling out paperwork and hashing out his new schedule. Hours were flexible, since most of the mice who worked here had others jobs and families, but a certain amount of hours were expected to be clocked each week. Once upon a time, mice kept personal paperwork and background information to a minimum due to safety concerns during the war, but now that it was long over, things like this were becoming the norm.

When he was finally finished, his new boss gave the forms a look over. His bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You're General Carbine's son?"

"Uh huh."

Even in retirement, his mom was famous.

"I hope you don't expect that to get you preferential treatment."

"My mom would smack me if I did."

Mollified, Torque left his signature on several of the forms before filing them away. And just like that, Saber was hired on to start at the beginning of next week.

Elated, he thanked him before heading out of the office - and didn't notice until now that Joy had stepped out at some point. She was standing a ways away from the small building with her back facing him, talking to what would soon be one of his coworkers. The mouse walked away, and Joy paced a few steps, shifting her weight from hip to hip. Her slim tail swished absently above her...

Clearing his throat, Saber hurried to catch up. "All done," he announced.

The slender half-mouse gave a nod of her head. Her eyes were on the horizon. The sun had long set, its afterglow like a white flare that spread miles into the sky before tapering and fading away. Saber studied the mountain range in the distance with her silently as a thought started to form in his mind.

Joy really seemed to get around - to the point where she was a familiar face even out here. He had noticed in the past that she didn't seem to be a stranger to much of anyone, but it never really struck him as significant before. He just assumed she was as outgoing and friendly as her brother. Always greeting people pleasantly whether she knew them or not. But a place like this was a little too far removed from home territory for her familiarity here to be a result from mere friendliness.

In a quiet, serious voice, he asked, "What are you doing out here?"

He almost expected her to feign innocence and ask what he meant. Instead, hands in her jacket pockets, she turned away. Head down, she started walking. Saber quickly fell in stride beside her.

"It is a secret?" he wondered, genuinely curious now.

Joy gave her head a small shake. "Not exactly. I'm not doing anything wrong, but...there are some people who would have a problem with it."

"What kind of people?"

Her pace slowed almost to a stop as she lifted her head and looked at him. Her green eyes were solemn. "The same people who sometimes have a problem with you. Or Ashlin."

A knot of understanding drew together in his stomach. He knew the kind of people she was talking about - the kind of things they might have a problem with. Fur that was a little too thick. Tails that were much bigger around and covered in a thin layer of coarse hair. A mouse-like face that didn't have any antennas.

There weren't many who looked down on those things and fewer still who thought about acting out because of it, but Saber knew they still existed. He'd always known - and Ashlin knew even better than he did. She understood in a way no one else could and made sure to drill it in him when he was small that none of those things mattered. That those who really loved him would never, ever care that he had the tail of a rat, or didn't have antennas. They would love him because of those things, not in spite of them.

He'd come to learn that the reverse was also true - that rats who really loved him didn't care that he looked more like a mouse than anything else. It was an issue that neither Vector or Joy ever had to deal with. They were hybrids too, but they didn't look it. And even if they did, it probably wouldn't make a difference. Their other half wasn't something anyone on Mars had a problem with. Their other half was from another planet entirely.

Joy still understood. She'd listened to the stories from the past, and seen the looks some of the older mice gave him, and heard the whispers they sometimes spoke. She was always the first to stick up for him if she thought someone was out of line, no matter how much older or bigger they were than her.

"I won't tell anyone," Saber promised.

Joy gave him a satisfied smile before quickening her pace again. She continued to walk until they were at the far end of the yard, at the back where empty containers were kept. They were stacked at various angles, some of them standing many feet over Saber's head. Moving around them felt like walking between miniature towers, a small forest of boxy metal. Some of them looked like they had been left here a long time; dusty and weather-beaten, they almost seemed like part of the terrain.

It was into the heart of this section that Joy headed. The main opening faced the desert, away from the yard itself. Almost like a world unto itself, Saber realized. Hidden away and private. The containers blocked in a fairly large area, keeping out wind and sound. Someone could meet here in secret and you'd never know.

And as they turned a corner and entered a space like a clearing in a forest, Saber realized that was exactly what it was used for.

At the center of the stacked containers was an area about twenty feet around. Within it were numerous makeshift seats: small boxes, spare rails stacked so they looked like benches. Blankets had been draped over hard surfaces to make them a little more comfortable. An electric heater had been placed in the center; it glowed a soft white as it radiated warmth.

Other small light sources had been placed out, giving off just enough light to illuminate the immediate surroundings but not alert anyone from a distance. The afterglow of the sun was barely visible here. Twilight had settled in, casting deep shadows and turning Mars from reddish-brown to silver and gray.

It was the perfect time for a secret conference - or whatever was going on here. Aside from the lights, there was food set out, balanced on the edges of uneven containers or lined up on rails. And there were different furred figures loitering around, some of them sitting, some of them standing. None of them were mice. Some of them were rats - but not fellow Neotherans.

You could always tell the difference between surface rats and underdwellers. Though it was once thought to be the other way around, rats who lived on the surface had harsher lives. It showed in the wiriness of their frames, the scruffiness of their fur, the weathered look to the faces. Their clothes were usually worn to the point they had been patched multiple times. The group here was no exception.

Sand raiders usually looked about the same, or worse, depending on which faction they were from. Gone were the days when they had bulging bellies and tattoos and spent most of their time guzzling drinks and bossing around slaves. Hard work had turned them smaller, thinner. You'd never know by looking at them now that they had once been such a decadent, indulgent race.

There were sand raiders here tonight too, sitting alongside the rats and talking quietly. Everyone went silent when the two of them appeared, all eyes turning to them. But no one jumped up or grew tense. Joy walked into their midst casually, murmuring a greeting to more than a few. Like everyone here was old friends. She took a seat on a rail next to a female sand raider and accepted the drink that was handed to her.

Saber remained standing, feeling a little awkward as conversation resumed. But that was the way he always felt when he found himself in the middle of a group that obviously knew each other when he knew no one. There was nothing sinister in the air, nothing about the unlikely group that suggested anything was going on here other than they were a group who just wanted to be left alone.

They all looked fairly close in age; late teens to early twenties. Each of them looked like they lived a rougher life than either he or Joy did, that roughness reflected in both their clothes and physical appearance. Some looked like they were scraping by all right, others looked like they went hungry more often than not. It also looked like each of them came from a different faction - factions who wouldn't be happy if they knew this kind of intermingling was going on. Just like certain mice wouldn't be happy if they knew Joy was sitting next to a scruffy female sand raider.

Saber leaned back against one of the containers, arms folded. A few feet away a male sand raider was doing the same. His yellow-brown eyes were studying him, though with curiosity or suspicion, Saber couldn't tell. He was tall and thin, but not to the point where he was bony. His ears and snout were longish, his fur spiky. He was wearing an old denim vest over a patched t-shirt and was fiddling with something in one of the pockets as he watched him.

He looked a lot different from the female Joy was sitting by. She was much shorter, her snout brief and her ears shaped like floppy little triangles. Her fur was grayish, with white markings. She reminded Saber of Horex - probably from the same faction, he realized. Judging by her weight and the state of her clothes, she wasn't doing as well as some of the others.

Yet she looked happy to be here, laughing at something Joy was saying. With a sudden look of amusement, the male who had been watching him shifted his eyes to the pale-furred rodent. His head jerked in Saber's direction. "That him?"

Joy looked up. "Uh huh," she said, her tone casual. "He just got a job here at the yard, so you'll be seeing more of him."

Nobody looked particularly concerned. Saber guessed that since he was with Joy, nobody figured he was anybody to worry about. That is, not anybody who would tell about what he'd seen here tonight.

With an air of indifference, the male sand raider pulled what he'd been fiddling with out of his pocket. As Saber watched, he withdrew a cigarette, slid it into his mouth and proceeded to light it. "Are you smoking?" the sable rodent asked - before he could stop himself.

A snicker of laughter spread through the group at this ridiculously obvious question, making his ears warm. The sand raider in question arched a spiky eyebrow before inhaling deeply and releasing a billow of white smoke that receded into nothing as it drifted into the blue-gray overhead.

"Yup, he's smoking," said Joy, clearly amused.

She twisted to face a random direction and called out, "Somebody call the police!"

Everyone snickered again. Saber's ears continued to warm until they burned. He didn't bother explaining why he'd been surprised - when you lived in Neothera, nobody needed an explanation. Living underground like they did, even with an air filtration system, everyone did their part to keep the air clean. Nobody smoked - or if they did, they went topside first. As a result it just wasn't something he had grown up with. Not that it mattered. If his mother ever caught him trying to pollute his lungs, shoveling animal dung would be the least of his worries.

He pushed away from the container. "Think I'll head home and start packing," he mumbled. Might as well be ready to move out whenever Vector finished sulking.

Halfway to his bike, he heard footsteps scurry up behind him. "You didn't need to leave over me," he said, as Joy caught up to him.

"It's okay," she told him, sweeping red-brown hair off her shoulder. "Astrid's home now and I don't want her to start worrying about me."

As the distance between them and the back of the yard increased, she glanced over her shoulder. Lowering her voice, she said, "I know they look a little rough, but they're good where it counts. They just don't have it as easy as some of us do. All they really want is a place they can go where they don't have to worry about who's fighting with who. A place where no one will bother them."

"Don't worry," Saber assured her. "I'll leave them alone. And I'll try to help make sure no one finds out about them coming here."

Joy flashed a smile and gave his arm a squeeze. "I'm sure you will. You're good like that."


End file.
